


Burgers and Pixie Dust

by PL1



Series: Food and Monsters [3]
Category: Supernatural, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Case Fic, Redcap, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 18:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PL1/pseuds/PL1
Summary: Oscar returns once again with a new case for the Winchesters. This time, there's more small folk for Dean to look out for, as a new friend shows up late at night to knock on Oscar's door.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightmares06](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/gifts).



Oscar shuddered and hugged his arms closer to his center. A distant machine roared, and the metallic sound vibrated all around him. He had to cup his hands over his mouth, a quick attempt to warm his shaking fingers. Oscar’s limbs were stiff as he sought his exit from the air duct.

A late heat wave had prompted the air conditioning to be turned on at full blast. Oscar inwardly cursed the unpredictable weather even as he found the loose panel of metal that was his escape.

Seconds later, Oscar was wending his way past support beams instead. His familiar route home in the walls wasn’t as dusty as the rest of the motel. He worked to keep his “neighborhood” clear, so his steps found no large pebbles of dust as he padded along. Even safely in the walls, Oscar stayed quiet. Years of habit sealed up his voice while he was out of his home. A lot of his luck owed to that natural sense of caution.

Recent adventures aside, Oscar faced everything with a healthy wariness.

He turned a corner in the walls, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as he always did when home was in sight. It was one of the few comforting constants in his life. After every day of ensuring his own survival by risking himself out in the motel rooms, there was his home.

At barely three and a quarter inches tall, sometimes even that was a struggle. The furniture, from the modest nightstands to the tall dressers and the massive beds, towered over him. For someone Oscar’s size, they might as well be landmarks. Oscar couldn’t even open a door on his own, though he could wriggle under it if he needed to.

It was the _humans_ that made everything dangerous. Towering people who outsized Oscar with just one finger, he’d been afraid of one finding him since he was a child. As he pushed aside the block of wood he used as a door and entered his home, he could pretend that closing himself in sealed them off from him.

His home wasn’t much, but it was _his_.

“Made it,” he muttered.

The main room of his humble house was small but cozy. His table was a tupperware lid propped up on small pill bottles, and wooden spools of thread served as his chairs. A counter made of a plastic block with a set of high shelves above lined one near wall, and opposite that was a small alcove with more shelves, hidden from view by a shabby curtain. In the corner was an old, velvety blue ring box, opened wide so Oscar could use it as a comfortable chair. His latest sewing project was strewn across it.

Oscar sighed and went to his pantry, sweeping aside the curtain. He shrugged off his cloth shoulder bag and contemplated where he’d put his latest finds. Normally, he’d pick the emptiest section of shelf.

Lately, he simply didn’t _have_ empty shelves in his pantry. Ever since he met the Winchester brothers, he hadn’t had trouble with food.

They’d been at the motel three times before. As odd as Sam and Dean were, they were Oscar’s friends, the first real friends he’d ever had. When they were around, he felt safe despite Dean’s size.

Dean was a human, but he was unlike the others. Oscar had never heard of a human that would share his food so generously.

Of course, most humans didn’t have a brother that stood four inches tall.

Oscar pushed aside bundles of food kept in cloth or plastic wrap (or in their _original packaging_ ) to make more room. It had been a few months since he last saw his friends, but he hadn’t put much of a dent in what they brought him. He’d also been lucky to bring back even more from the rooms most days. Even without the help, Oscar was good at surviving in the motel.

“Did pretty good today,” he said aloud, proud of the haul he’d managed to find. He’d even snatched a small piece of metal from an earring that he could use to make a new sewing needle. Once the food was stored away, he dropped his bag by the ring box and chose part of a chip and a raisin for his dinner.

_I’ll sew tomorrow,_ he decided. When his food was gone and his small stomach satisfied, he wandered into a side room of his home, one dominated by a pile of cloth scraps. The blankets were Oscar’s sanctuary. A chill lingered in his bones from the air conditioning, and Oscar needed no further prompting to burrow into the pile.

“Night,” he murmured, once he was bundled and curled up underneath his blankets.

He’d nearly drifted off to sleep when a knock came at the door.

Oscar opened his eyes and frowned at the dark. His mind, caught in the stupor before sleep, tried to think of why someone would show up at night. He sat up, escaped his warm covers, and was out in the main room before he froze.

_Who … ?!_

He crept towards the block of wood, staring at it incredulously. Inches away, Oscar flinched at the sound of three more raps, insistent and quick. He couldn’t have imagined them. Someone was out there knocking instead of coming in to greet him. Oscar hadn’t had a visitor to his house in the walls for years.

“U-uhm,” he stammered.

Three more knocks.

After spending some time with Sam and Dean, Oscar knew there were _things_ out there. Monsters and demons and witches and who knew what else. He couldn't face such a strange occurrence without some skepticism.

He scrambled to his supply shelves. He had to pull himself partially onto the counter to reach the top shelf, but there his hand closed around the cold metal of a long needle. It was easily half his length, something humans used to sew their own thick fabric together.

Oscar couldn’t use it for sewing, but he held it close as he crept towards his door. He wondered if Sam and Dean would be proud of him for having a weapon ready.

He hesitated, and then pushed the block of wood aside. He held the needle up in a guard position, and then balked from what he saw waiting on the other side. The needle clattered to the ground and Oscar fell to a seat.

It was a person with yellowish skin that Oscar could swear was glittering. Their clothing was much less shabby than his own. The pants tucked into shiny boots and the jacket had a real lapel and what looked like buttons. Black hair as glittery as their skin topped their head, mussed out of a much nicer hairstyle than Oscar could ever manage.

Despite their striking appearance, it wasn’t even the sparkling that dominated Oscar’s impression of the stranger smiling in at him.

It wasn’t even their dragonfly wings.

Instead, Oscar fixated on the fact that they were so tall they had to squat down just to see into his home. They were over twice his height.

Seeing Oscar, the person grinned and shifted where they crouched to see better into the house. “Ooo, glad I caught you awake, little friend,” they said. “Boy could I use your help!”

Oscar frowned, and then tried to blink more sleepiness out of his eyes. “Caught me awake?” _What is going on…_

The person laughed, and it was a nice sound. For a moment, Oscar worried that the noise would rouse any nearby humans. Then, his unease washed away as if that laughter was a wellspring of calm washing over him. Still, his skeptical frown remained.

“Oh, little friend,” the stranger said, smiling wider. “I’m sorry. But there’s no need to be shy! Would you mind inviting me in?”

“Inviting you in?!” Oscar echoed the stranger in a confused tone. “Why?”

The person shifted uncomfortably, and that dazzling smile faltered. “Well because otherwise I can’t come in, silly.”

“Um,” Oscar said, pushing himself further back on his floor. His knees drew close and he stared up at the person. He was tempted to dart back into his bedroom to hide under his blankets. Maybe it was all a weird dream. “Who are you?”

They blinked. “Um. Well, names are a bit of a tricky thing, you know. You can call me Goldenrod for now. Like the flower?”

Oscar gave them a blank look in return. “Okay,” he replied, nonplussed. “Um. Why are you … you’ve got wings,” he stammered, glancing over the glittery, translucent wings. They buzzed faintly in response to having the attention on them.

Goldenrod giggled. Oscar still couldn’t place if that laugh was more feminine or masculine, and wondered if he ought to ask or keep his confusion to himself. “I’ve got wings, alright, but they’re _tired,_ ” they said, glancing over a shoulder and running a hand through their dark hair as they did. “I’ve been looking all over for a safe place to lay low. All the other thresholds lead to _humans_ and I’m not a fan of _those_ folk these days.”

“Thresholds?” Oscar pushed himself to his feet. His needle, abandoned on the floor, glinted at him and he snatched it up. It was held defensively in front of his chest as he stared out at Goldenrod. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, least not about that. I get wanting to avoid humans, but what _are_ you?”

“I guess those are good questions,” Goldenrod admitted ruefully. They fidgeted. “Lemme in and I can explain.”

Oscar almost did, for the sake of getting answers. Then, he remembered Sam and Dean, and all of the dangers they had to deal with. Shapeshifters and demons, things that could look like someone perfectly safe. That was how they got close enough to cause real hurt. He shook his head. “No. I’m not letting you in without some answers first.”

In response, Goldenrod’s expression darkened, and for a moment Oscar could see how different they really were. The angles of their face sharpened, those eyes burned with otherworldly frustration, and there was a flickering in the shadows behind them. Oscar drew back, intimidated, and a low squeak of fear escaped him.

Then, the moment was gone. Goldenrod looked repentant as they beheld the fear on Oscar’s face. “Ohhh, man, I’m sorry, little guy,” they said. “I’m just… really tired, been a long … year. I’ll answer, okay? Don’t be scared of me.”

“O-okay,” Oscar replied, his voice quieter and shakier than before. He really wished he had some help figuring out what to do. Sam would probably know right away.

But Sam wasn’t there. It was just Oscar and the miniature giant Goldenrod. “Um. What are you, Goldenrod? Never saw anyone like you before…”

Goldenrod rested their hands on their knees. “I’m a pixie, little friend. Haven’t you met any kind of fairy before? You’re practically a brownie yourself, aren’t you?”

Oscar blinked, then glanced down at himself. Looking back up, he caught a bemused smirk on the pixie’s face, and gave his answer. “Um. No, I’m not,” he mumbled, despite never having a word for what he _was._ “And I haven’t. I didn’t know fairies were _real._ ” Even as he admitted it, he felt silly. Of course fairies would be real.

Goldenrod snickered. “Alright, that’s fair. Any other questions?”

This gave Oscar pause, and he glanced over Goldenrod’s glittery appearance while he pondered. If fairies and pixies were real, he wondered if Sam and Dean had ever met any. If they _had,_ were they supposed to be dangerous?

“What’d you mean about threshold? I don’t even have a real _door._ ”

Goldenrod fidgeted again and glanced over their shoulder. It was as though they expected to find someone else lurking in the dark. “Thresholds have a kinda power, little friend. When a home really belongs to someone, and is important to ‘em, it gets a threshold. Then fairies like me aren’t allowed in without permission.”

Oscar didn’t fully understand _why_ that was, but he didn’t have a way to fact check what the pixie told him. At least Goldenrod hadn’t once made a move to shove themself through the little doorway into his home. “And if I let you in … you won’t hurt me, will you?”

Goldenrod looked almost devastated to receive such a question. “Ohhh, little friend,” they cooed. “I _promise_ I won’t harm you. It’d be poor manners after such a favor. You’d be helping me out if you let me past your threshold and we fairies definitely do _not_ like cheating our friends on favors.”

Oscar shook his head, confused as ever by the things Goldenrod talked about. Favors and and thresholds, actual _pixies,_ were beyond his worldly knowledge. He hedged for a moment, wondering what to do.

Finally, and thinking he definitely needed a second opinion on what to do with his situation, Oscar relented. “Um. Okay. You can come in, but-”

“Oh, little friend!” Goldenrod said happily. As if they were let off a leash, they leaned forward to crawl through the small opening on their hands and knees. Those glittering wings tucked close to their back as they entered, looking entirely too big for the space, and Oscar backpedaled hastily. He forgot what else he wanted to say as someone twice his size sat in his main room, one boot nudging a spool chair aside.

“Thank you!” Goldenrod crowed, twisting around to push the block of wood back into place.

“J-just- hey!” Oscar began, interrupted once again by a quick movement from the pixie. Before he could flinch away, a pair of hands appeared under his arms and hoisted him right off the floor. His legs tucked close in his surprise as Goldenrod lifted him up like a child.

Then, they hugged him close to their chest, clinging to him and resting a cheek atop his head. “Oh, my best little friend,” they said. “Thank you. Thank you so much for letting me in! It’s been so rough on my own out there!”

Oscar squirmed, planting his hands against Goldenrod’s chest in a futile effort to push himself out of their embrace. He could barely even see anything besides the pixie’s twinkling form. “I don’t un’erstand!” he mumbled, his face partially squashed against Goldenrod’s chest. “Lemme go!”

Goldenrod only half complied. They stopped squashing Oscar against their chest, but he was still stuck in their arms when they sighed wistfully and leaned back against the wall of his small home. There really wasn’t room in there for them.

Oscar squirmed pointedly, a worried frown on his face. The needle that he’d picked out for defense was still down on the floor, and he was caught in Goldenrod’s grasp without really knowing what they wanted from him. “Um,” he began, wishing the pixie caught his hints. “Put me down, um, please!”

Goldenrod, who had busied themself looking around Oscar’s little home with a peculiar look on their face, finally glanced down at him. They smiled sheepishly, dazzlingly, and then placed one hand on his head to ruffle his hair. “Right. Sorry, little friend,” they said, even as they shifted to lower Oscar back to solid ground once more. “I was just so overcome by your kindness!”

Oscar huffed and scrambled back, giving himself some space. He found himself with his makeshift table between himself and the pixie, a meager shield but one he needed all the same. “Wh-what happened? Why are you here anyway?”

The pixie sighed, a gesture that slumped their shoulders in the most calculated, put-upon way to show just how much they’d had to endure. Oscar watched them skeptically, and they decided to speak. “Okay. I’ll tell you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar and his new guest have to call in some expert help.

The Impala left the Wellwood behind.

At first, the ride out of the woods was bumpy, with lots of turns and few signs. Sam made sure his balance was solid where he perched on Dean’s shoulder, both of them wary after the strange case against the lich. Their thoughts were heavy and kept them silent for the trek through the golden green sunlight that splashed over the Impala’s black finish.

Sam was preoccupied with the memory of Dean under the influence of the lich’s strange magic. The blank look in those green eyes haunted him, and the things Dean had _said_ in those frightening moments clung like cobwebs.

_If I don’t, I’m asking to die. Just like Sammy._

Sam had made peace with his curse. He was happy enough at this size so long as he had his family and a purpose. Even with that peace, it shook him somewhere right in his core to know that his own father had used his disappearance to cut at Dean, to put him down.

If he got the chance, he’d have to set that straight. Dean didn’t deserve that, and Sam needed to make sure he wasn’t still clinging to the idea that it was somehow _his_ fault.

In the meantime, he opted to spare Dean from the memories, too, and changed the subject. “So where to next?”

Dean’s head tilted to the side slightly, one way for him to shrug without actually performing the gesture. There was a brief flicker of eye contact in the rearview mirror before he was watching the road again. Even so, Sam could swear he felt some tension leaving the shoulder he was perched on, as if Dean was relieved to have something else to think about.

“Dunno,” he replied, his gruff voice back to normal after their brief talk in the woods. “I was thinkin’ we’d head west for a bit before hitting a diner somewhere. We can grab some food to go and then find a room to get a shower, look for a new hunt. You up for it?”

Sam patted Dean’s neck with a hand. “Sounds like a plan to me. And don’t forget my salad this time.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and this time he _did_ shrug, if just a little. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your rabbit food.”

“Good. I think the last time you ordered just a burger the grease disintegrated the bread,” Sam complained, leaning back against Dean’s neck so he could stretch his legs out for the coming drive.

“That’s how you know it’s _good,_ ” Dean protested. “Y’know who appreciates good food like that? Oz. Haven’t been to see him in a while.”

“Oscar appreciates _any_ food you put in front of him,” Sam reminded him, though he couldn’t stop a grin at the mention of their small friend. “Maybe we can check in with him sometime soon. It’s been a while.”

Dean nodded once. “Make sure he’s got enough squirrelled away,” he agreed. “Who knows, maybe he’s got a case for us again.”

~~~

“But _little friend,_ ” Goldenrod protested. They still had never bothered to ask Oscar for his name, and something in him always forgot to offer it. Currently, he stood with his bag over his shoulder, facing the miniature giant that sat on their hands and knees and blocked his way to his door. “I just can’t tell you how _terrible_ that idea sounds. Absolutely _dreadful!_ ”

Oscar huffed. “W-well, I dunno why you thought it’d be any better to just stay in here forever,” he countered, exasperated. After everything the pixie had told him the night before, he knew for certain he was way out of his depth. “ _I_ can’t do anything to fix it, but I know who can!”

Goldenrod made a whimpering sound, their glittery skin twinkling in the new light from the morning. They hadn’t slept a wink during the night, so they told him. Oscar hadn’t heard a peep out of the main room since he retired to his pile of blankets, but he believed them.

Now, he believed they were being a pain on purpose.

“I’ve heard of humans like these friends you’re talking about,” they went on, still blocking his way. “They won’t like me any better, you know. They might even _blame_ me, innocent Goldenrod, for what’s going on.”

Oscar shuffled his feet on the floor. He absently noticed that there wasn’t a speck of dust on it, and wondered if his guest had anything to do with that. It nearly distracted him, but he shook his head. “They’re not gonna blame you,” he insisted, though he didn’t know for sure. He knew he could always count on Dean and Sam, but they were driven in what they did. He didn’t know how they’d react to what Goldenrod had told him.

Even so, they needed to know. It was the calling they had chosen. As crazy as Oscar thought they were, he wanted to help, too.

Goldenrod worried their bottom lip with perfect white teeth. “They’ll … they’ll help?”

Oscar nodded. “I think they will. They help people a lot. It’s what they do.”

The pixie hummed thoughtfully, pushing back so they sat on their knees and could cross their arms. They had to hunch over to still fit in the room, but all the same Oscar gave them time to contemplate it. He turned away, shuffling towards one side of the room where he had an alcove full of miscellaneous supplies.

There he found a worn old business card. The note on one side was dusty and faded, but the real number on the front remained as bold as ever. Even with its folded over corner and shabby edges, the card was all Oscar needed to bring Sam and Dean right to the motel. He tucked it under one arm and led the way out his little door.

He turned around once he was out in the walls. With a dull look, he could only watch as the pixie hunched down to wriggle through the doorway that was far too small for them. He shifted the business card under an arm, and Goldenrod flashed him a sheepish grin.

One squirm later, the sound of plastic clattering to the ground came from within the home and Oscar cringed. From the sound of it, his table had just been knocked over. Goldenrod looked over their shoulder, but couldn’t see back into the small home. “Oops,” they whispered. “Sorry. I can fix it …”

Oscar waved a hand. “Maybe later,” he said. “We need to go find a phone now.” _The sooner I call Sam and Dean here, the sooner all this is done with._

Once Goldenrod managed to squirm their way out of Oscar’s home again, the odd pair set off. Oscar led the way through the dark in the walls, trying his best not to think about the miniature giant walking in short strides to keep apace with him. Oscar didn’t come up to Goldenrod’s hips when they were standing up straight.

By the time they reached an entrance into one of the motel rooms, Oscar’s nerves were working at full force. They always did whenever he did something out of routine, and guiding a pixie to one of the phones definitely wasn’t on his usual to-do list.

Goldenrod fell blessedly quiet while Oscar went through the motions, listening for a human and then waiting a few extra minutes to be sure. When they were both assured no one waited on the other side of the small opening, Oscar slipped into the motel room with silent motions. Even the chatty pixie followed his lead for the most part. Only their wings rasped against the wallpaper.

“Well, let’s be quick about it, then,” they announced once they were free. They squatted down, reaching towards Oscar with deft hands. He couldn’t even step back or register what they said before he found himself swept up again.

“Goldenrod!” Oscar whispered, distracted from his glance around the room. He kicked his legs in surprise while the pixie once again held him close to their chest. They at least made sure he didn’t drop the business card. “You don’t have to keep hugging me! What are you-”

The small pair left the ground behind abruptly, and Oscar choked on his words and shut his eyes tight. He listened to the buzzing of Goldenrod’s wings and clung to their arm, his whole body tense. He _refused_ to look down. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but he’d never _flown_ before. Part of him could almost sense the distance down to the floor, yawning beneath him as the pixie flew him across the room.

“There, a phone,” Goldenrod announced. Oscar opened his eyes in time for the pixie to land on solid ground and lower him down once more.

The nightstand. They’d just crossed the room in mere seconds to land next to the phone on the nightstand. Oscar would have taken several minutes to make that trek.

He glanced around to make sure there were no humans around, and then huffed. “Right. Thanks.”

With Goldenrod’s help, the phone was lifted out of its cradle. The number keys gave under Oscar’s little pushes, and soon he typed out a familiar number. He tried to ignore the miniature giant squatting near the alarm clock watching him work.

Oscar hopped down from the phone while the dial tone warbled out of the earpiece. He fidgeted his hands, clasping them and unclasping them, and waited for an answer. Hoping he’d actually _get_ one. Without Sam and Dean’s help, he didn’t know what to do.

The earpiece beeped. “Hello?” a gruff voice greeted. Oscar glanced at the alarm clock where Goldenrod waited. Almost nine o’clock.

At least it didn’t sound like he’d woken the human from a dead sleep. Talking on the phone already made Oscar nervous. “Um. Hi, Dean,” he greeted.

There was a pause, and then a slight _tap_ as the phone was set down on the other end. “Oz, is that you?” Dean asked. “You’re on speaker, buddy, what’s up?”

“Oh, um,” Oscar said, catching up to what “on speaker” meant. He glanced at Goldenrod again. “W-well, something is happening in town that I thought you might be able to help with…”

The next voice out of the phone was much softer than Dean’s gruff tone. “Hey, Oscar,” Sam greeted. “What happened? We’re not far at all so we can head that way soon.”

Oscar smiled faintly. His friends were ready to come to help, just like he thought. “Well, I’m not fully sure of _everything_ that happened, since I don’t watch all the news a lot, y’know, and it didn’t happen in the motel this time,” he began. “But … “ he paused, glancing at Goldenrod once more while he recounted their story in his head.

“Oz?” Dean prompted. “What’s going on?”

“Well, there’s … there’s a bad _fairy_ attacking people and … and eating some of them, I think?” Oscar answered. Goldenrod nodded once in agreement, but Oscar was skeptical of his own words.

“A fairy?” Sam said, his own voice wrapping around the word with some doubt. “Oscar, did you see something? Out the window or something?”

Oscar shook his head, and then reminded himself that the others couldn’t _see_ him doing that. “No, I didn’t see anything. Um. A different fairy found my house and told me.”

The brothers paused. Oscar winced, and imagined them sharing a look. Maybe they thought he’d gone mad at last. “They’re right here, they came to my house to hide!”

“I wasn’t trying to just _hide,_ ” Goldenrod whined. “I was looking for help!”

“Hey, hey, who are you?” Dean growled over the phone before Goldenrod could pick up any momentum. “You aren’t threatening Oscar with that … other dangerous fairy crap, are you?”

Goldenrod put a hand on their chest and looked utterly mortified. “Um. _No._ I was merely telling him why I showed up at his door asking for refuge, _thank you._ ”

“Th-they didn’t threaten me or anything,” Oscar cut in. He didn’t want to let the pixie get going on their complaints, either. “They said the other fairy is bigger, like a human sized fairy, and it’s attacking people … They escaped … um.”

Goldenrod chimed in again, stepping over the phone to join Oscar next to the mouthpiece. “That filthy bog demon started calling pixies like yours truly to its aid only to _eat_ them, sirs, so _I’m_ a victim, here. Or an almost victim. Rude boy.”

“Huh,” Dean replied, though his voice sounded less speculative and more skeptical. It was just as effective as if he’d said _shut up._ Goldenrod raised their eyebrows primly but didn’t say another word.

“Oscar, we’re going to be there as soon as we can. Give us four hours, tops, okay?” Sam said after a brief pause. Oscar pictured another glance shared between the brothers. Sam’s tone had him on edge. He wondered what they knew about fairies.

“Okay, w-we’ll come find you in the same room I met you last time, ‘kay?” Oscar said, moving on. At least it wasn’t a long wait.

“Sure thing, Oz,” Dean said. His voice was kinder now. “Just hang tight and be careful with your … houseguest until we can all get on the same page.”

Oscar sighed. “Yeah. Seeya soon.”

Then, the call disconnected and the wait began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, here are the Winchester bros we all know and love. I forgot to mention it last time, but this one makes it more obvious that this story takes place pretty much right after A Lich of Sense, story 10 of the Brothers Apart AU.
> 
> I know I did a phone call scene in the last story, but I couldn't resist another one. Oscar's gotten better about speaking up and Dean is even more protective of his little buddy. Goldenrod better behave if they don't want Dean Winchester on their tail.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters head out to find their old friend. Sam meets Goldenrod and has some Opinions.

With a potential case ahead of them, the Winchesters didn’t dawdle. Their routine of picking up and hitting the road was a comforting constant in such a weird lifestyle, and they performed it like clockwork. Dean had barely pulled out of the parking lot of their latest stop before Sam was climbing out of his pocket towards his shoulder. He hardly registered the tiny, nimble movements, except to make sure he didn’t feel Sam slip.

“What’re the chances we leave a bunch of wood sprites behind only for Oscar to call the next day about some _fairy_ trouble going on?” Dean complained.

Sam snickered. Suddenly, Dean’s delirious rant in the woods about _wings_ came back to him, and he guessed his older brother was rueing that all over again. They’d met a lot of winged people since they teamed up.

“Hopefully whoever that was with him was honest,” Sam mused. “Fairies, actual ones, can be pretty tricky, if the lore is right. The sprites probably don’t compare at all. From here _or_ from Aeternum.”

Dean mulled it over while he merged onto the highway. “We’ll find out in a couple hours. If they are, great, we’ll look into the case. If not, we can at least make sure Oscar’s alright.”

Sam agreed. No matter who that fairy claimed to be, they could cause trouble for their small friend all too easily. The sooner they could check things out for themselves, the better. Sam wasn’t even sure how many other people his size lived in that motel, or if Oscar’s family was still around.

He realized sheepishly that he’d never thought to ask. They had only ever dealt with Oscar so far, and he never brought it up. Usually he was too busy being nervous about the case that drew them to his motel home. When they’d gone for a simple visit, he’d spent the entire time amazed that they wanted to see him.

Oscar used to be wary of Dean, too. Sam probably wouldn’t forget his desperate first meeting with the little guy. He’d cried out in such fear.

Sam knew well how proud Dean was to have moved past that fear. He hated scaring Sam or anyone his size.

The distance melted away behind them, as if even the Impala was eager to return to Breckenridge. Mountains crept up from the horizon until they surrounded the Winchesters on all sides. Dean took turns around cliffs of which Sam could hardly fathom the size. It was a vastly different landscape from what could be seen around the motel where Sam had lived over half his life.

Scanning the mountaintops, Sam wondered if Oscar knew what the world around his home looked like.

“Just about there,” Dean announced, his voice rumbling behind Sam and breaking him out of a daze. “Dunno if Oz’ll be waiting out for us, so you might have to check out the walls for him.”

Sam stretched, letting his back pop before relaxing against Dean’s neck again. “I thought I’d give you a chance at it,” he quipped. “You do get around faster.”

Dean snorted. “Right. I bet he’d _love_ to have someone trying to break into that vent he always uses.”

Despite the potential danger of the coming case, Sam smirked. The image of Dean trying to squeeze into the air duct wouldn’t leave his head. There’d be no end to the bitching if he got _stuck._

With the banter out of the way, the time came for Sam to duck into hiding as Dean arrived at the Knight’s Inn to check into a room. Luckily, the room where Oscar always showed up to meet them was available, and Dean could claim it for himself. Oscar’s home in the walls might even be close enough that he’d hear their arrival.

It was rare that the brothers visited the same place twice. It was almost jarring to see all the same tacky decorations in the room. Sam hung his arms over the edge of the pocket while Dean set down his stuff on the table and the first bed.

“Drop me off by the vent, wouldja?” Sam called up. There was a momentary pause, and then Dean’s swaggering steps moved towards the wall by the dresser. Sam could have gotten to the floor and the vent on his own, and they both knew it. It was simply faster for Sam to put his brother’s longer strides to good use.

Dean knelt and Sam gripped the edge of the pocket as the air rushed past. When Dean offered a hand, he hoisted himself onto it with practiced ease. “Careful in there, half-pint,” Dean warned. “Be ready in case Oscar’s in trouble.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shot his brother a confident grin. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a bit. You’ll hardly know I was gone.”

Dean lowered his hand to the vent opening, but Sam paused. He opened his jacket partway so that he could let the blade of his silver knife glint in the light. He met Dean’s gaze, an expression that tried hard to hide his worry. Despite his boasting, Sam understood. “I come prepared, Dean.”

Dean blinked, and then smirked as Sam finally disappeared into the dark metal passageway. “Look out for cobwebs, pipsqueak. Might get your bangs stuck in one if they were any longer.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother with a retort. He’d already wandered into the vent, and now he had to focus. They knew Oscar used this air duct to get into the room most of the time, but beyond that Sam didn’t know where his home was.

Sam had checked out the vents briefly the first time they ever stayed here. He’d never noticed the evidence of someone living there, not until he found Oscar hiding in his “room” under the nightstand. Sam made sure to glance over every inch this time, in hopes of finding the route Oscar used.

He almost overlooked a small broken panel of metal a few feet down the passage. It couldn’t make a very big opening, but that very fact halted Sam in his tracks. He held a hand flat in front of his chest, contemplating how _small_ Oscar was, and how much it always surprised him. Only Sam’s adopted mother had been smaller than Oscar, at least as a fully grown adult.

Sam wrenched at the loose panel and it slid aside with a metallic whisper as it scraped against the metal around it. The opening was a squeeze for him, but he made it through into the walls themselves, landing with a quiet thud that no human would hear.

He blinked in the almost-total darkness, and then glanced down. The ground was far less dusty than he’d expect in one direction. Sam could almost see a path away from the opening, a route taken often. He smirked. With as many surprises as Oscar had tucked away in his little sleeves, the little guy had some easy patterns to figure out.

Sam followed the lack of dust around a bend, and paused. A house waited, built in the makeshift fashion that most littles aspired to. Support boards that towered out of sight in the dark formed part of the little home, with broken pieces of drywall slanted over most of the structure. Sam noted the tufts of pink fiberglass insulation tacked to the seams between the plaster, as well as large bits of plastic over others. A block of wood nestled against the front of the little structure, a doorway to a home barely the size of one of Dean’s boots.

With a softer smile, Sam continued forward. He’d never seen Oscar’s house before, but this _had_ to be it. No dust scraped under his boots as he approached; Oscar, or maybe someone else living there, kept the area clean.

He was several inches from that door when he heard voices inside the home. One was quiet, meek, and the other was confident and sharp. Sam didn’t catch any words, but he recognized the stranger from the phone call, the way their voice cut the air and rang like a bell. The pixie.

His hand found the hilt of his knife and clenched around it in preparation. If he needed to rush in and defend Oscar in his little home, he was ready.

“Oscar?” Sam called, his voice strong but still hushed so long as he was in the walls. They couldn’t risk another human realizing where Oscar lived. “Everything okay in there?”

“Sam?” called back, a confused little voice muffled by the structure of the house. Oscar.

Then there was a clatter of something against the floor and shuffling within the home, and Sam tensed again. The pixie’s voice muttered something, and then something knocked into the block of wood from the other side. Sam inched forward again, eyes narrowed.

The block of wood shifted, and then pushed aside. Sam was greeted by an odd sight.

Oscar stood next to the door, crowded close to it sheepishly. Just behind him, leaning down on hands and knees, was a person at least twice Sam’s size. They were big enough that Oscar barely had room to stand by his door while they were there. Suddenly the clattering and shuffling made sense; whoever this was had no room to move around in a house made for someone like Oscar.

Their face angled towards Sam, and he could swear their skin glittered. Keen eyes looked him up and down, and an almost-grin erupted onto their face before disappearing just as quickly. “H-hey, you got some silver or something on ya, don’t you? Don’t tell me you brought _iron,_ too.”

Oscar glanced over his shoulder at the huge person taking up the view into his home before stepping out towards Sam. His little hands clasped in front and fidgeted. “H-Hi, Sam. This … is Goldenrod,” he introduced. “I … didn’t know you knew where I lived.”

“I didn’t,” Sam replied, taking the easy answer first. He looked over Goldenrod some more, what he could see of them. They offered him a terse smile again, and he inclined his head, though the confusion didn’t leave his expression. “I just kinda followed the path … What was all that noise? Is everything okay?”

Goldenrod spoke up before Oscar could answer, their voice easily overpowering his. “I knocked over my little friend’s table again,” they lamented. “There’s a lot of me here, y’know. But there’s room if everyone wants to come inside, Oscar’s a good host.”

Oscar sighed, and Sam suddenly wondered if the little guy had been overworking himself babysitting a miniature, sparkling giant. “Y-yeah, if you wanna,” he said. “You got here faster than I thought you would.”

Sam smiled kindly at Oscar and lightly clapped a hand on his thin little shoulder. “We couldn’t leave our honorary hunter waiting,” he reassured. “But I think if we’re gonna help with … everything you said on the phone, it might be better to come out and talk to Dean, too. I’d like to visit your home later, but it sounds like there’s some people in danger, right?”

Oscar looked up, traces of a smile in his eyes. “Right, okay,” he said. Even despite his timid nature and the _weird_ situation, the little guy still had that will to help people. He was braver than he knew.

“We’re going out again?” Goldenrod asked dubiously. They frowned at Oscar, almost ignoring Sam entirely, who wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Oscar huffed quietly. “Y-yeah, but the room’ll be safe,” he said, turning to face the pouting pixie. “I keep telling you Dean’s a good human, he won’t hurt us. Lemme come back in and get my bag.”

Goldenrod sighed, the most put-upon sound Sam had ever heard out of one person, and then almost flopped right onto the floor. Sam caught a glimpse of four dragonfly wings, so reminiscent of Nixie’s wings, before they propped themself up again and reached for something out of sight from the doorway.

Before Oscar could step towards the door, Goldenrod thrust a hand out, gripped around the strap of Oscar’s cloth bag. It hung in front of him for a surprised second before he took it gently out of the pixie’s grasp. “Um. Thanks,” he muttered.

“Alright, I’m coming out,” Goldenrod announced, but before they made a move they pointed accusingly at Sam. “I know you’ve got silver, friend. I can smell it. And I _know_ what hunters are. Be _nice._ ”

Sam met that gaze without any fear. “So long as you are, too, I don’t think we’ll have a problem. We came to help, remember?”

Goldenrod wrinkled their nose in an expression that reminded Sam of a little kid who couldn’t get their way. Then, before he could even roll his eyes at them, they pulled themself forward and he stepped back in surprise. Oscar shuffled out of the way with him.

The pixie was definitely too large for Oscar’s little wooden door. They had to hunker down to the floor to squeeze past the opening, and their gossamer wings tucked close to their back as they wriggled their way out. Oscar sighed faintly next to Sam as they squirmed their way out. When they were finally free, they nudged Oscar’s door back into place.

Then, they stood.

Sam took another surprised step back. Goldenrod stood a definite eight inches tall, though their frame was willowy like the wood sprites Sam had met just days ago. He’d seen people much taller--his own brother was one of the tallest humans around. It shouldn’t come as such a shock to see someone this size.

Sam wasn’t used to being _short_ compared to other littles. Oscar barely came up to his chest, and most others had to angle their eyes upward to talk to him.

Goldenrod made Sam and Oscar look like children.

They stood there, brushing off their well-made clothes, and Sam found himself inching along to place himself between Oscar and the pixie. If they posed a threat no one had seen yet, he would be ready. If Goldenrod didn’t like the _smell_ of his silver blade, they definitely wouldn’t like its sharpness, either.

Oscar had his neck craned back to keep an eye on Goldenrod, but then he turned his focus to Sam instead. “We gotta use a different entrance from what I usually use,” he explained. “Goldenrod doesn’t fit into the vents.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Sam said with a dry chuckle. “Alright, lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winchester time! I managed an entire chapter from Sam's perspective, something I don't think I could have done when I first started writing fanfiction! :dummy: How I've grown.
> 
> And how tall Goldenrod is. Sam does not approve of not being the tallest of the smols. He's ready to fite if he must.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is revealed. Dean meets Goldenrod and also has Opinions.

Dean sat on the edge of one of the beds in the room, his back straight and his hands poised on his knees. Despite everything they’d gone through, it still didn’t sit well with him to let Sam go off on his own when there could be something dangerous around. Salt already lined the door and window of the room, and Dean had even placed some in front of the vent, just in case. He didn’t know what else to do to prepare until they had all the details.

From a friggin’ _pixie._

First Nixie and Ilyana, then Bowman, and now _this._ Dean was beginning to wonder if they’d end up meeting every kind of tiny person there was to find. Ever since he’d found Sam, he’d had to spend a lot more of his time watching his step.

He watched the vent with an unbreaking gaze, even leaving the TV remote untouched on the nightstand. Until the others were back and he knew they were safe, he couldn’t let his mind wander.

Movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention and he bristled. Nothing had happened in the vent, but on the opposite side of the dresser, a seam in the wallpaper shifted.

Dean narrowed his eyes and rose to his feet. His many weapons raced through his mind, a silent inventory of the ways he was prepared for anything just in case something screwy was going on.

He needn’t have worried. A little hand he could barely see pushed the wallpaper away from the wall and a face appeared. A face topped with a familiar wild tuft of brown hair.

Dean grinned with relief. “Oz,” he greeted, walking over towards the spot on the wall. His casual swagger barely shook the floor after all his practice being around Sam. Lord knew the kid could bitch about him causing _earthquakes_ until the end of time.

Oscar’s tiny face angled upwards at him until he was a few feet away, and then the little guy finally moved again. Timid as ever, Oscar slipped through the opening in the wallpaper, keeping close to the base of the wall. His trusty cloth bag hung at his side and his tiny hands clutched the strap.

Dean was happy to see the little guy looking well. He knelt slowly, focusing on Oz while Sam poked his head out of the wall to follow. “Good to see ya, Oz,” he said. “You had us a little worried.”

“H-hi, Dean,” Oscar greeted. The little guy even offered a smile, and then glanced back to the slightly curled wallpaper of the entrance. “Glad you guys made it so fast.”

A second later, barely an instant after Sam had stepped out of the wall, the entrance was pushed open by another tiny hand.

Not as tiny as Sam or Oscar, a fact which froze Dean’s reply in his throat. He watched as a tall, spindly person stooped to step through the opening, glittering in the light of the room. When they stood to their full height, they were easily twice Sam’s height.

Dean very nearly reached out to scoop Sam and Oscar off the floor to safety. It was _weird_ to see a little guy who was _bigger_. Sam would be even taller than Dean if not for his curse, and Dean was tall.

“What the hell?!” he blurted before he could stop himself.

The pixie glared up at Dean and pressed their back against the wall, a dark look crossing their face. Oscar, seeing their glare, inched away from them. Even Sam watched carefully to see what reaction was forthcoming.

The moment was over and the pixie scoffed. “ _You_ have silver and iron, too,” they complained. “I _hate_ that stuff!”

Dean fixed the pixie with a skeptical stare. Most things that didn’t like iron or silver ended up being bad news. Dean had killed enough werewolves with silver bullets to know that the bad and the ugly didn’t mix with the pure metal.

“Silver ‘n’ iron are tools of the trade,” he quipped. He lowered a hand for Sam and Oscar, but his eyes remained fixed on the glittery fairy. “Why don’t we all have a chat and see if I need to put ‘em to use.”

Instead of intimidated, that fairy actually looked _affronted._ They put a little hand over a tiny chest and huffed indignantly, every action a calculated measure to show just how offensive Dean was.

Sam shot Dean a glance, and Dean knew what he had to be thinking. _Innocent until proven guilty._ They couldn’t jump to conclusions with someone so small, even if they were bigger than Sam. It was too easy to take advantage and make a mistake, a harsh lesson they’d learned from the Mangas family.

_Not jumping to conclusions. Just being prepared,_ Dean told himself resolutely.

Sam didn’t say anything until he’d hopped up to Dean’s palm. “We can go to the table in case Dean needs to look up any news.”

Oscar nodded. “Oh. Right.” He stepped towards Dean, breaking out of the tense moment stuck between Dean’s staredown with the pixie. Dean took some pride in the fact that Oz didn’t seem wary of his hand at all. It was so different from the first time he’d offered the little guy a hand.

The pixie, by contrast, put a hand to their little chest again as Oscar stepped up, this time with worry. Dean watched them while Oscar used his fingers as a ramp to his palm. So far, the sparkling little person was still plastered to the wall, but Oscar’s move put a mortified look on their face.

“Be careful, little friend,” they warned shakily. “He’s an awfully _big_ human.”

Oscar looked back, surprise on his little face, but Dean lifted his passengers off the floor before he could answer. Instead, Dean chimed in. “The big human can hear you talking about him.”

That finally coaxed the fairy away from the wall a few steps. They stared up at Dean warily, wings twitching and bright eyes glancing Oscar’s way a lot. “Good for you, human, I had heard some of your species can't,” they said. Dean could swear it was genuine praise and not snark. Little weirdo.

“I just want to make sure my friend stays _safe,_ ” they pointed out. Their wings buzzed to life at last, and they hovered level with Dean’s hand.

“Goldenrod, I’m _fine,_ ” Oscar finally interrupted. His cheeks were pink.

Dean smirked, try though he might to school his expression. “We good, _Goldenrod?_ No one needs to get their wings in a twist over this, now.”

Goldenrod scoffed, but before they could fuss too long over a comeback, Dean’s fingers curled in slightly to offer Sam and Oscar some security, and he pushed himself to a stand, leaving the pixie behind for a moment. Sam kept his balance on the palm, well used to traveling that way. Oscar had to brace himself against a fingertip.

“Wait for me!” Goldenrod complained as Dean turned towards the table. They flitted higher and gave Dean a wide berth as they followed him towards the table. He couldn’t help but think of all the other times he had a tiny winged person buzzing close by. It was ridiculous how often that happened to him now.

The pixie refused to lower themself toward the table until Dean sat down. Only when his hand was on the flat surface did Goldenrod drift down towards Oscar and Sam. Dean kept his distrusting eyes on the little busybody, but even that was waning already.

If this guy … girl … whatever wanted to do something, they’d have made a move already. Hell, they could have held Oscar as a hostage and the little guy wouldn’t have been able to stop them.

“Alright, I think we better start at the beginning,” Dean determined. Once Sam and Oscar had stepped down to the table, he folded his arms to lean on it. Goldenrod might be taller than the littles Dean was used to, but he could still easily loom over the pixie. Sam hardly seemed to notice the pressure Dean’s demeanor put into the air, and Oscar was about as nervous as he always was, sticking close to Sam.

Goldenrod inclined their head and pursed their lips in a pout up at Dean, before their wings twitched and they broke eye contact. “Fine,” they said. “I suppose if you wanted to be mean you’d have done it already. _Rude,_ but not mean.”

“We just want to find out what’s going on and help whoever we can,” Sam chimed in. There were the puppy eyes. Dean could almost always count on Sam to help get other little folk talking.

Goldenrod sighed heavily, and as they did, they sank to a seated position on the table all in one motion. A slender little hand dragged back through mussed hair, and they began their story.

“You might have guessed that fairies aren’t from around here, metaphysically speaking. I’m from a different realm, and I was quite pleased to stay there, you know. This world has its charms but it’s just not _home._ ”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “So what’re you doing here?”

Goldenrod fixed him with a flat expression, and even Sam glanced over his shoulder scoldingly. Dean shrugged, putting on an innocent look.

“I came because I was summoned,” Goldenrod continued, sitting up straight and acting as if they were the most gracious for gliding past Dean’s interruption. “I was summoned here by another fairy causing mischief, and since he outranks me, I had to answer his call. Dreadful, but rules are rules.”

“Is the other fairy the one causing trouble?” Sam asked. His hand blindly went for the flap over his leather satchel. He didn’t even need to look to retrieve his journal, a tiny book that he carried with him everywhere to record the information they found on cases.

Goldenrod nodded and their brow furrowed. Their voice was thicker when they answered. “Oh yes. For us pixies _and_ for whatever humans wander too close to where he’s hiding. Pixies aren’t regarded very highly in _any_ court, but this would not be allowed back home, I’m sure of it.”

Oscar shifted where he stood, and Dean noticed how tense the little guy was. He frowned, glancing back at Goldenrod. They might be dramatic, but there was real sorrow on their face now. Dean knew better than to believe it right away, but it was better than the nasty glares they’d started with.

“What’s he doing?” Sam asked, taking a seat with his journal. He had his pencil lead in hand already, prepared to jot down the details. Sitting like that so near someone twice his size, he looked a bit like a little kid.

“Well, humans do bleed a lot, and that’s great fun for someone like him,” Goldenrod sneered, distaste shining in their eyes. “But since he’s far from home he thinks he needs to snack on something more substantial and magical.”

“The other fairy is _eating_ your kind?!” Dean blurted. This time, his frown was angry on Goldenrod’s behalf rather than against them. It didn’t matter that they weren’t human. It wasn’t fair to take advantage of someone smaller for one’s own gain. No one deserved that, no matter how fussy.

“It sounds awful,” Oscar finally spoke, his voice soft and thready.

“I escaped before he could consume me,” Goldenrod went on. “I sought refuge in the best place I could think of behind a threshold, and my little friend here had the best one.” They offered Oscar a smile, and he shrugged sheepishly when both Dean and Sam looked his way.

“Uhm. Something about … my house being mine,” he said. “It makes it magic?”

Goldenrod nodded in approval. “He invited me in and I am safe there, so other fairies can’t find me. It’s really too bad the little place isn’t big enough to host both you hunters.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I eat my wheaties,” he quipped.

Sam was the one keeping them on track. “So … you said this other fairy is hurting humans … Goldenrod, do you have an idea of how many people have died so far? Maybe how to find him and stop him?”

Goldenrod sighed and put a hand to their forehead. “I wish I knew,” they lamented. “When I saw why I’d been summoned, I flew as fast as I could, no matter the scenery. There were … parts. But I didn’t stay to count.”

Dean winced. “Well, I think we have enough to get the research goin’,” he determined, sitting up. “I might go asking around, see if I can find out where this son of a bitch is holed up.”

He couldn't say he trusted Goldenrod just yet. In the end, it all came down to Oscar, who'd at least trusted the pixie enough to let them into his home. Dean would give this a chance, for the sake of his small friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The much awaited meeting between Goldenrod and Dean. As expected, they both want to protect their Oscar from each other because he's their buddy. So long as he's safe, I think those two can probably get along, don't you think?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Gore Mention in this one) The research and footwork for the case is underway. Where are they gonna find that bad fairy?

Oscar sighed, glad they could make some progress on the case. Just as he’d expected, Sam and Dean knew what to do with the information Goldenrod gave them. Oscar wouldn’t have known what to do at all, and the grisly details would probably just have given him nightmares.

Sam rose to his feet, regarding his gigantic brother. His journal was tucked under an arm, ready to open again if the need to write something down struck him. “Right,” he quipped, “you’re definitely not trying to weasel out of research.”

Dean shrugged. “Does everyone here wanna go with me instead?” he asked pointedly. “I got enough pockets, but it might get a little crowded.”

Oscar looked up, his eyes wide. He’d travelled by pocket before, and had been treated to Dean running full tilt to chase a _demon._ His stomach did flip flops just remembering that ordeal. It didn’t matter that he’d agreed to go, even insisted on helping them with the case. It was scary to be jostled around like that and know he wasn’t in any control.

This time, he wasn’t _needed_ along to help, but Dean had offered. Oscar knew Dean wouldn’t go up against something he didn’t know how to kill yet, and he definitely wouldn’t face a monster without Sam nearby. They were a seamless team, something that still baffled Oscar sometimes.

“Um,” he muttered, self-consciously shuffling his cloth-covered feet. He tried to take up as little space as possible, an easy feat for the smallest one there. “If you need us …”

Dean spared him at last with a faint smirk. “Nah, Oz, I was just kidding. Sam will get on the laptop to do some research based on what Goldie here has to say. You can look after our would-be vic while me an’ Sam are busy, okay?”

Goldenrod huffed indignantly, but Oscar ignored them to nod emphatically at Dean. This was something he could do. He’d already spent some time keeping an eye on the strange fairy, and with Sam nearby to help him, he wasn’t as leery of them.

“Alright, Dean, I’ll help,” he agreed.

“Attaboy, Oz,” Dean replied, his smirk becoming a grin. One huge hand shifted so that Dean could nudge at Oscar’s shoulder with one knuckle, making him lean away from it in sheer surprise. Oscar trusted the human, but it was _weird_ knowing how gentle someone so much bigger could be. Dean had practice.

Then, Dean pushed back from the table and rose to his feet. Oscar craned his neck back as a shadow fell over the three still on the table, and knew they weren’t in any danger from the tall human standing there.

Weird. His life had gotten so weird since meeting those brothers.

While Dean and Sam got the laptop ready for Sam to do research, Oscar waited exactly where he was. He didn’t have a seat until Dean set down one of their tattered old books on the table and offered him a wink, before heading to the bathroom to change into his disguise. The routine of preparing for a hunt and gathering all needed information was as automatic as breathing for Sam and Dean. Oscar was simply swept along for the ride.

He hopped up onto the book to have a seat, and by the time Dean came back, Goldenrod had scooted themself closer as well, eyeing the laptop dubiously. Sam navigated the keyboard with ease, one practiced hop after another. The pixie looked like they didn’t know what to think about Sam’s familiarity with the technology.

The door closed behind Dean and the three were left on the table to their own work. “Alright, Goldenrod, what can you tell me about this guy? Name, powers, what he looks like?” Sam asked.

Goldenrod opened their mouth, and then flinched as the Impala roared to life outside. They sent the door an accusing glare before pointedly settling their shoulders. “Can’t name him directly, that’d just be bringing trouble right to us,” they huffed. “But I think in this realm you have a phrase that will work. He’s a Red Cap.”

While Sam typed in the words, Oscar looked up at the harried pixie. He recalled something they’d mentioned before. “Names? Why are you so worried about names?”

Goldenrod offered Oscar a smile, the kind of expression reserved for a child asking endearing questions. “Names given directly are like power to the fairies,” they said. “That’s why I never asked for _yours,_ little friend. It would have been rude of me. I didn’t find out your name until these two said it.”

Oscar must have looked worried, because Goldenrod laughed then, that musical sound that both relaxed Oscar and chilled him to the bone. “Oh, my little friend,” they said. “Please don’t fret.” They leaned over where they sat so they could put both arms around Oscar’s tiny frame, yet again moving more quickly than he could account for.

“Goldenrod!” he complained, squirming.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice cut in, and Oscar looked over to see the smaller of the two professional monster hunters standing near the mousepad on the laptop. He had bristled and he was watching Goldenrod warily. “Let him _go_ if he’s not okay with … what are you even doing?”

Goldenrod huffed, but let go of Oscar anyway. They pointedly set their hands in their lap before giving a flick of their gossamer wings. “Oh my gods, don’t friends _hug_ in this realm?”

Oscar paused, then glanced over at Sam to see that they both wore a confused expression. Oscar wasn’t sure of how to answer. He’d never _had_ any friends until Sam and Dean came along.

Sam shook his head and held up a hand as if staving off the nonsense that was sure to come forth from the pixie if they were allowed to keep rambling. “Uh. Whatever. Usually people hug if _both_ people want to,” he emphasized, before turning back towards the screen to change the subject.

“I found a page on red caps,” he said. “Maybe you should come over here and go through it with me for fact checking.”

~~~

_Jesus Christ,_ Dean thought, a frown settled on his face as he pulled the sterile white sheet back over the body. If that’s what they were calling it.

Whatever had killed that person had hardly left anything to identify them as a _human._ If they hadn’t been stored in a freezer, Dean might have gagged from the smell of such a pile of gore.

“This is all they found?” he asked, brushing past it. He’d seen mauled corpses before. It was part of the job. Already the harsh sight was fading from memory into the background. It was motivation to prevent someone else from meeting the same grisly end.

And, whether or not he doubted that fairy was telling the truth, this looked like a case.

The coroner shrugged and ran a hand over his bald head. “It is,” he confirmed. “One a’ the worst animal attacks I ever saw. I dunno what coulda done it, so I don’t know why tha FBI’s pokin’ around.”

Dean got that one a lot. If only this guy knew how often the “FBI” saved people from things they didn’t want to know existed. “Gotta follow up on everything,” he said, resigned to the lie. Same story he told everyone who asked, and it kept the civilians safe. Most of them simply weren’t ready for the supernatural, and he did what he could to keep them in the dark. “Dotting i’s, crossing t’s, that sort of thing.”

The man shrugged again and shoved the cooler closed with a nod of acknowledgement. “Alright,” he grunted. “I’ll getcha a copy a’ the report, just a second.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Dean answered.

Nothing like a suit and a little confidence to make sure almost no one questioned him too much. He tried to tell Sam, but for whatever reason Sam never found it as funny that Dean could get into places with a _Bikini Inspector_ badge.

The coroner gave Dean a tidy manila folder with the report from the death, as well as similar cases in the area. Dean thanked him and the guy gave him a noncommittal wave as he left, aiming to take the information back to Sam. Hopefully his trip through traffic to the morgue and back would have given enough time to research some background.

Knowing Sam, it was plenty of time. The little guy had taken to the research like a fish to water. They might bicker about who did more work in that area, but at the end of the day Dean was proud of his little brother.

On his way back to the Impala, Dean paused to notice a group of kids loitering at a park across the street. They yelled at passersby and passed a lighter back and forth to smoke and generally act like teenagers.

One of them noticed him watching and sat up straighter. He made a show of turning his ballcap around and then flipping Dean the bird with both hands. Tough guy.

Dean’s expression went flat and he rolled his eyes, ignoring the jeers. “Yeah, you’re welcome, you little assholes,” he muttered, slamming the door. “I’ll just get back to saving your town like usual.”

The Impala rumbled to life, and Dean pulled away from the curb to head back.

There was a Biggerson’s on the way. Thinking briefly of how much Oscar liked warm food, Dean decided to make a quick stop. The little guy seemed healthy enough lately, but he was always so skinny and frail when they stopped in town. Dean had to wonder if the food they left him was stretching thin to feed too many mouths, or if Oscar just couldn’t keep the pounds … ounces on.

With some food in hand and a report on the kills in town, Dean was back at the motel in no time. A cursory glance revealed not many people were around the _Knight’s Inn._ He doubted Sam and Oscar found any trouble from outside the room.

If trouble came at them from that odd little pixie (Dean hadn’t realized they could meet someone fussier than Bowman Leafwing), Sam was ready. Dean had trained the kid with his silver knife himself, and Oscar knew the hiding places in this motel better than anyone.

Despite this reminder, there was a rush in Dean’s steps as he closed the distance to the door, spoils in hand. He knocked twice, not forgetting his signal for his vulnerable little brother even in his hurry, and then unlocked the door.

“Hey, guys, I …” he stopped after closing the door behind himself.

Sam stood on the laptop, his usual spot for research, but he had his arms crossed. Oscar stood near the machine, staring up at Dean with surprise. Goldenrod …

Goldenrod was gone.

Dean frowned and inched toward the table. If there was a setup, Sam would signal him. When nothing was forthcoming, Dean set down the food bag and let the manila folder slap onto the table opposite the others. Oscar flinched, then shuffled his feet abashedly.

“Where the hell did he … she … where did Goldenrod go?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Apparently they got spooked by all of this and decided to flit back to Oscar’s ‘threshold’ to hide,” he answered. “Couldn’t exactly stop them, but I think they went to Oscar’s house again.”

Oscar nodded sheepishly. “I _told_ them they’d need to stay and help more, but … they said something about hunters being reckless and then they flew off. I can’t really keep up with pixies, I guess. I can go find them again, if you want? I was gonna wait ‘til you came back.”

The rambling tapered off and Dean shook his head ruefully. “Nah,” he said, waving a hand. “Let ‘em stew for a bit. I’ve got some info from the morgue we can go over.”

“Alright,” Oscar said uncertainly, though the tension did slowly unwind from his shoulders.

“Don’t worry about it, Oz,” Dean reassured him with a smirk. “If you head off right away, you’ll miss out on Biggerson’s.”

Sam and Oscar both finally took more notice of the food bag, and with very differing reactions. Oscar brightened as much as he’d ever done at the sight of a huge bag full of warm food. Sam eyed it dubiously. “Did you get-” he began.

“They have a salad option,” Dean cut him off with a roll of his eyes. “And yes, I got it, you rabbit. Let’s just go over what we know, eat to build our strength, and then you guys can go cart that fairy back out here to do their share.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love the dynamic I've stumbled into between Dean and Oscar. XD They're such good buddies, but I don't think anyone could have predicted the scariest human befriending the most timid of the little guys. And Sam's protective of Oz, too. He's their buddy. Woe be to anyone who messes with him.
> 
> Also the bad fairy's identity is explained! And his work is showcased ... fairies are so much more violent in lore than Disney movies prepared me for


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The troops mobilize. A hunting we will go!

Once they’d all eaten and Sam and Dean had traded the information they knew, it was time to go and retrieve Goldenrod again. They were the best chance of finding the Red Cap, and the sooner the mission was finished, the better. Oscar had only taken one glance at the pictures Dean brought back from the “morgue.” He never wanted to see anything like that again.

He might not be able to fight what caused it, but he knew who could. Dean had taken on a demon before, and much more. Oscar still remembered the earthquakes from the one fight he’d witnessed as he darted across the floor.

This monster was scarier, in a way. They didn’t know much about what it could do besides tear unsuspecting people to shreds.

Sam followed behind Oscar in the dark, letting him lead the way. Despite wearing sturdy boots in a distinct contrast to Oscar’s small cloth wraps, Sam moved as silently as anyone their size. It was a skill they had to learn well if they wanted to survive.

When they rounded the bend again and his house was in view, Oscar sighed. When all of this was over, he wanted to crawl into his nest of blankets and stay there for a day to sleep off all the strangeness. He’d never minded company before, but then again, he’d never had company as big as Goldenrod, either.

“Made it,” he muttered, more to himself out of habit than to Sam. He shoved the block of wood aside as always, and they were greeted with a clear view into the cozy home this time.

Goldenrod sat with their knees drawn close to their chest, and they faced determinedly away from the door as Oscar and Sam entered. Their wings twitched and they heaved a sigh, the kind that spoke volumes all on its own. _I know you’re there and it’s disappointing,_ they seemed to convey. Even humans couldn’t pout so masterfully.

Sam paused near the door, glancing around curiously, and for a moment Oscar decided to ignore the looming mini-giant in his wrecked home. He waited for a sign of what Sam thought of the house he’d lived in all his life.

“Um. It’s not usually … the table got knocked over,” he said sheepishly. “But otherwise everything’s fine. I do my sewing on that ringbox over there, and that’s my pantry.” Oscar pointed out the few landmarks in his sparse main room. “I think I have more food on there from you guys than what I bring back myself.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, his head on a swivel as he looked around and took it all in. “It’s _great,_ Oscar. Where’s, uh … nevermind.” He offered Oscar a brief smile before stepping past him and giving Goldenrod a much more stern look.

“I know you’re about to scold me,” Goldenrod interrupted, still refusing to look at the pair. They shifted so their knees were drawn even closer, and lay their cheek on them. All Oscar and Sam could see was the back of a mussed up hair style and the tense shoulders. “It’s how it goes for the cowardly pixies like me.” Their voice was melancholy.

Oscar shuffled up next to Sam, watching Goldenrod with a thoughtful expression. “Um. We didn’t come find you to _scold,_ ” he insisted, though he was more confused about why Goldenrod thought they would.

“We need your help, Goldenrod,” Sam chimed in. Oscar glanced up and saw he wasn’t as stern as a moment ago. Sam had a remarkable empathy with people, at least smaller-than-human people. Even the very first time Oscar met him, he’d been nothing but patient.

Despite Oscar shoving him and even landing a weak punch to his gut.

Goldenrod, though twice Sam’s size and able to fly, almost looked vulnerable hunched in the corner. They heaved a dramatic sigh and shook their head. The motion created a wave of sparkles over their hair and the back of their neck.

“Well, I’m not the pixie for the job,” they said. “I ran last time, and I’m planning on staying away. It’s how I’ll survive all this mess. Can’t you hunters just go take care of it yourself?”

Sam shook his head. “No, we can’t,” he admitted. “We don’t know how to _find_ this guy in time. You’ve got to have a way of tracking him quickly so we don’t waste any time.”

“W-we gotta get to him before he … eats someone else,” Oscar stammered, a shudder wracking his tiny body. There were a lot of things out there that could eat someone their size or even Goldenrod’s size. The thought of something that ate up _humans_ too terrified him.

But still, he had to try to help the Winchesters find it.

“Goldenrod, don’t you have a way to lead Sam and Dean to the Red Cap?” he tried again, taking a step closer to the pixie. They still refused to face him.

“Doesn’t matter if I do, I’m not going,” they snipped. Their voice was pouty, determined, and resolute. “I don’t see why I should bother trying to fix things now, I may be the most cowardly pixie the Unseelie court has ever seen, but at least it means I don’t have to get _eaten_ like my friends did.”

Oscar winced and looked over his shoulder at Sam. Sam frowned critically at the pixie, and then his gaze dropped down to Oscar, who paused under his scrutiny.

“Goldenrod, let me tell you something,” Sam began, striding around so he stood right in front of the fairy’s fancy boots. His hands were on his hips and he stared up at the gloomy pixie despite their refusal to meet his eye. “If you’re worried because you’re small, you need to _suck it up._ Other humans _and_ other pixies are in danger if you don’t play your part in all this. You came to Oscar for help, and this is the solution we’re gonna go with.”

Goldenrod finally stirred as Sam’s harsh assessment sank in. They lifted their head to peer down at Sam, eyes narrowed. Oscar recognized the dark look they’d given him so briefly when he first met them. Sharp angles lined their face, and their eyes looked more alien in a far off, indescribable way. Their very aura sparked with annoyance and otherworldliness.

Sam didn’t flinch, and so Oscar didn’t either. He shuffled closer again, standing with his friend and trying to be as brave as he could. If Sam could face that scary look, Oscar could try.

“I know you’re a victim here, but we don’t have any other options,” Sam went on, unfazed by Goldenrod’s attitude. In fact, his tone put a chip in the pixie’s armor and slowly they settled into watching flatly as the two smaller people blocked them into their corner.

“Just … try to be like Oscar,” Sam said. Oscar jolted and looked up at him in surprise, eyes wide. Sam didn’t take his gaze off of Goldenrod, but there was a smirk playing at the edge of his expression. “Last time he worked a case with us, he was _scared,_ just like you are now. But he went with us anyway, because he knew he was the best shot at finding the demon we were after and bringing it to justice before anyone else got hurt. His bravery ended up saving lives. You can do the same thing, Goldenrod. You won’t be the most cowardly pixie they’ve ever seen when you’re the one who helps take down the Red Cap. Right?”

Heat rose to Oscar’s cheeks and he fretted at the strap of his cloth bag. Sam had called him _brave._ Oscar, who went through almost every day worrying it might be the one time he slipped up and got himself into deep trouble, was _brave._

He might never get used to hearing something like _that._

A sense of pride crept in, one that he recognized. He’d been proud to help Sam and Dean with two cases before. He’d do it again, if he could. He turned his imploring gaze to Goldenrod again.

The pixie pouted. Their lower lip stuck out just so, and they slumped against their knees. Even so, they stared thoughtfully at Oscar, their ‘little friend’, and a long pause drew out.

“Alright,” they relented with a deep huff of a sigh. “I’ll _go._ If only to make sure you don’t get my little friend into trouble with your hunting shenanigans.”

They moved too suddenly for Sam or Oscar to hop backwards out of their way. Large hands and long arms extended towards them both, and though Oscar was used to it, Sam balked like he was under attack. Oscar caught a glimpse of his hand reaching for something in his jacket before they were swept inexorably forward.

And squeezed in another of Goldenrod’s protective hugs.

“Dammit,” Sam mumbled, just as immobile as Oscar as the pixie held them.

“This is a _thank you,_ ” Goldenrod scolded him, their voice resounding close. “You’re the ones who want me along, so I’m going to do some things my way. So, _thank you_ for trying so gods-blessed hard to help me, okay?”

Sam glanced at Oscar, squirmed again, and then sighed. “Fine. Now put us down and we can get back to Dean.”

~~~

Iron and silver were the weapons of choice. The lore had plenty on the subject of fairies and iron, how effective the pure metal was against them. Just like spirits, it burned away at them. Dean made sure to keep his options open, with an iron dagger as well as iron rounds for his gun stashed away in his pockets. He still had his silver knife, a twin to Sam's, as well.

He was as ready as he could be to go and take the son of a bitch down. All he needed was a direction to point himself.

To that end, he waited at the foot of the bed again. His back was straight and his fingers drummed impatiently on his knees. Sam and Oscar had been gone a while, off to coax that airheaded pixie back out into the open.

It was a contrast to most of the small companions they’d met along the way. Nixie and Bowman didn’t shy away from trouble. Bowman seemed especially primed for _finding_ whatever trouble he could.

Dean glanced at the alarm clock and started mentally counting the weapons he had on his person. The energy of a hunt already coursed through him, and he was aching to get out there and fight. To take out another evil _thing_ that thought it could mess with humans.

_Not on my watch, fairy boy._

His inner self-motivation was interrupted by the barest whisper of a sound against the wallpaper. Dean’s eyes locked on the same spot the others had entered from before and he stood, making his way over. He was ready to greet them when the paper pushed away to admit-

“What the hell?!” Dean blurted for the second time as he saw Goldenrod exit the walls.

This time, it was because they had Sam and Oscar carried under each arm, holding them safely but several inches above the ground. Oscar clung to Goldenrod’s arm as if scared he would fall. Sam squirmed pointedly, frowning, but Dean noticed some pink in his tiny cheeks. Any other time, Dean might have a shit-eating grin on his face for their plight.

As it was, he bristled. _Why_ the pixie thought it would be a good idea to carry them through the walls, he’d never know.

When Goldenrod set Sam and Oscar down at last, Dean didn’t bother holding back his protective streak. A hand reached down in a fluid motion to scoop the pair up, taking them by surprise with two tiny _oof_ s. “What’s the big idea?”

A tiny punch from Sam went ignored on his palm, but Dean got the idea. _Easy for you to say._

Goldenrod’s shoulders bunched up and even their wings opened partway. “Now, listen, you rude enormous human,” they huffed, “you’ve been distrustful of me this whole time, when I even hung around despite all that nasty iron you have. I was _helping_ them and trying to be _nice,_ so you …. Gimme a break!”

Dean paused, honestly surprised by the answer out of the fussy little fairy. On his palm, Sam and Oscar managed to untangle themselves so they could peek over the side. Despite the unexpected grab from Dean, they were caught up as an audience to the standoff between hunter and pixie.

The silence drew out for another beat before Dean shrugged. “Fine. You get a break, Sparkles. You’re coming to help?”

Goldenrod glanced at the pair on Dean’s hand before answering. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean glimpsed Oscar waving encouragingly from his perch.

Seemingly assured, Goldenrod nodded. They stood straight with their arms behind their back and their boots placed just so. “Yes, human. I, Goldenrod, will be of service as your guide.”

Dean smirked at the decorum. “Awesome. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get that pixie to work! Something tells me Sam noticed something about Oscar's living situation >.>
> 
> Also. Dean just doesn't know what to do with that fairy. Why do they need to carry the little guys around. Why.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find the bad fairy's lair. Oscar is nervous, but ready to help his friends.

Goldenrod was _terrible_ at giving directions.

Dean “missed” a turn that would have taken the Impala across a baseball field and rolled his eyes, and already the pixie astride the backrest buzzed their wings. “Human, you should have gone that way! This tracking spell won’t last _forever,_ you know!”

Dean grumbled something unintelligible and looked ahead for an actual street that would take him the right direction. “I can’t just go off the road,” he groused back.

“Someone would stop him and we’d never get there if he didn’t use the roads,” Sam explained from his perch on Dean’s shoulder, far more patiently. Dean knew why; the little guy was amused as all get out by the conversation between Goldenrod and Dean. He’d be gloating about his own merit as a navigator for months after this. At _least._

Oscar was still in Dean’s pocket. His little arms were draped over the edge to help him stay up, since he was too small to simply stand in it. The others had opted for their places out of necessity, Goldenrod to try to point the way for Dean and Sam to keep them in check. Oscar, timid as he was, chose to remain somewhere he didn’t need to worry about falling.

Dean was prepared to be the only one bringing the fight to this Red Cap fairy. Goldenrod had made it clear that they wouldn’t be joining the fray, and Dean would never expect Oscar or Sam to take on someone human sized. They were resourceful little guys, he knew that better than most, but there were some things they needed to avoid.

His grip tightened on the wheel. He could do this. He had to, so they wouldn’t be in as much danger. Sam had his pure iron nail and his silver knife, so he could protect the others while Dean went on the offensive. And Sam and Oscar both had a handy little backup plan tucked away in their bags.

He made the turn and glanced to Goldenrod to make sure he was still on the right track. They were pouting again, but they didn’t blurt out any new directions, so Dean stayed on the street he’d chosen.

“D-Dean,” Oscar’s little voice filtered up from the pocket. Dean glanced down only for an instant before returning his attention to the road.

“What’s up, Oz?”

“Just, um. I remember when we were lookin’ at stuff earlier, it said something about the Red Cap’s … cap. I think if you can get it away from him it might do something?” Oscar’s voice was unsure, and Dean could picture his little eyes flickering to Sam up on the shoulder.

Right on cue, the younger Winchester chimed in. “Some of the lore sites here and there did mention it,” he said. “But most of it isn’t clear. It _does_ say he uses the blood of his kills to dye it red, though.”

Goldenrod huffed in that haughty way they had. “That part is definitely, _disgustingly_ true,” they said. “If he lets the hat dry out too much I think it throws him off his game, but you _won’t_ get it away from him. He won’t let it happen.”

“Oh, m-maybe that’s true,” Oscar muttered from the pocket. His little voice was nearly snatched away.

“I’ll give it a try, Oz,” Dean assured him. Any edge they could get against a monster, he’d take. “Goldenrod? Next turn?”

The pixie shifted on the backrest of the seat, teasing Dean’s peripheral vision with motion. They observed all around the car as it crawled along the side street, and at one point they paused to stare at nothing, falling eerily still.

Friggin’ fairy magic.

“Keep going, and … I suppose angle leftwards at your earliest convenience,” they directed, begrudgingly catching on that Dean couldn’t plow the Impala through the small houses lining the road.

“Got it,” Dean answered, keen eyes already darting ahead for a turn.

~~~

Side roads and rarely-used turnoffs led them to the outskirts of town. By the time they reached a wooded area that Goldenrod recognized from their first hours in the human realm, Oscar was a nervous wreck. The pixie above fidgeted more and more, while Sam watched more keenly. Dean’s heart, so near the pocket, had changed its rhythm sometime since the trip started.

Oscar’s had too; his fluttered with every thought of what they were looking for.

Part of him wished he was back home with his pile of blankets. His house was small and sometimes dreary and it wasn’t very pretty, but it was his. It was safe.

He couldn’t let his friends go up against this thing without knowing they’d be okay. Last time, he’d been able to help. He might be able to do something again. Even if he was terrified, he had to be there just in case. He was the reason they’d come, after all.

“ _Dean,_ ” Sam called sharply from up on the shoulder. The human tensed, and Oscar peered straight up at him. Sam had his eyes fixed on something outside the car.

The car slowed while Dean looked for what Sam saw. Oscar saw the realization forming on his face in large scale. Realization, and then a hard determination crossed Dean’s expression.

“Son of a _bitch._ ”

Dean found a place to park the car. After making sure Sam was okay on his shoulder and Oscar in his pocket, he left the Impala where she was, with Goldenrod flitting fearfully along beside him. When he rounded the huge black vehicle, Oscar finally saw what the others had keyed in on.

A long, bloody handprint smeared on the trunk of a tree. It was fresh.

Looking past it, there were more spots of blood on trees and ferns, leading away into the woods on the edge of town and up a hill. Someone had been dragged off from the road, and Goldenrod was fidgeting more than ever. Oscar ducked down so he only peeked his eyes over the edge of the pocket.

“Looks like he left a trail for us,” Sam commented darkly.

Dean scoffed. “Got your iron and silver, Sammy?” he asked.

“Got it. Do you have _yours?_ ”

Dean grinned that time, but it wasn’t the kind of grin Oscar saw when the human greeted him or watched something amusing on TV. It was grim, and it was feral. “You know I’m ready. Let’s gank this evil son of a bitch.”

The bloody trail gave Dean a clear path to follow, but he didn’t stay on it exactly. Oscar practically held his breath as the man tensed into a stalk so quiet that his footsteps barely rustled the leaves and grass under his boots. Even Goldenrod quieted. There was no room for error in this.

A house came into view and Oscar almost dropped into the pocket the rest of the way. Dean procured a knife from somewhere (maybe his sleeve?) and stalked forward cautiously. The paint had almost all peeled away from the house, and most of the windows were broken out. The front door was gone, and the frame was decorated with several of those dragged handprints, most of them dried to a rust color.

Music played somewhere inside, and Dean’s steps paused.

“Waitasecond,” Goldenrod hissed, flitting out in front of Dean. “You’re gonna get glamoured if you walk in there now.”

Dean scowled, but Oscar’s brow knitted. He had no idea what “glamoured” meant, and hoped that Goldenrod would explain without one of their tangents.

Instead, they clapped their hands together twice. Oscar blinked, and could have sworn their skin sparkled more than usual for a few seconds, and then they drifted to the side again. “There, now you’ve got all _my_ glamour affecting you so you should be safe at least for a while. I just won’t tell you to do anything!” They smiled winningly.

“You think that’s _helping?_ ” Dean hissed, unconvinced.

Before he could go on, Sam placed a calming hand on his neck. “It’s all we have right now, Dean,” he advised, “you gotta get in there in case that last victim still has a chance. We’ll be okay.”

Dean hedged, but stalked forward anyway. His battle calm, disrupted only for a moment, settled over him once more as he eyed the corners around the house and held his knife out in front defensively. No unseen attackers leapt out at him.

By the time he reached the door, the music was louder, but it couldn’t cover the sound of sobs from somewhere inside the house.

Oscar’s heart beat so quickly he almost wondered if it had stopped. Soon, they’d find out what this hideous creature looked like. He pictured long, sharp teeth, and nasty claws, both ready to rip a human to pieces. Bloodshot eyes glared and a snarling jaw snapped in his mind’s eye, and Oscar finally hid his face behind the edge of Dean’s pocket.

Sturdy boots crossed a threshold that hadn’t belonged to anyone for years, silently entering the monster’s den.

Oscar didn’t peek out again until Dean’s slow, sneaking walk came to a stop. He leaned against a wall covered in mostly-peeled and bloodstained wallpaper. Several feet away was a doorway into a back room of the house, and the music and sobbing filtered from there. A voice taunted whoever was weeping, but not in a language Oscar recognized. It grated on his nerves like a sharp point grazing over skin, leaving a stinging itch behind.

Dean was already offering Sam an open hand, and as soon as Sam was aboard, the broad platform lowered to the pocket. It was time.

“Stay outta sight, Sammy,” Dean warned, his voice almost inaudible.

“I remember the plan,” Sam affirmed, helping Oscar onto Dean’s hand. They couldn’t afford to be on his person while he went into a fight. One punch over the pocket would be the end of them. Goldenrod’s haughty demeanor was gone and their usually-fancy look disheveled.

Oscar stared wide-eyed up at Dean as the man lowered them all the way to the floor at the base of the wall. He looked terrifying, but Oscar’s shudders weren’t for Dean. He’d learned _that_ look was reserved for the vicious monster in the next room.

“Careful, Dean,” he whispered. “We’ll be looking out for you.”

Dean nodded, and brushed a fingertip over both Sam and Oscar’s heads before rising back to a stand. Goldenrod, standing taller than them both but still much smaller than Dean, watched his knife warily, but hadn’t backed out yet.

Then, with more silent steps, Dean inched around the small trio towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time has come at last! They've found the evil fairy's lair and Dean's so ready to bring the fight to it. Let's just hope the little guys stay out of danger. Oscar's way too scared for all this violent nonsense. Bad Fairy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight! Some Dean Winchester ass-kickin' in this chapter, and of course it wouldn't be a Brothers Apart AU without the little guys coming in for the assist!

Dean steeled himself. He couldn’t afford to glance back to check whether Sam and the others had made it into the walls yet. They would keep safe in there, out of sight. Sam had his weapons, and Oscar was just as adept as any little at staying hidden away. Goldenrod … well, they’d be fine if they stuck with the others.

Dean had to be ready to face …

“Wait. _You?!_ ”

After building up his anticipation for long claws and yellow eyes, of hulking shoulders and a hideously curved back, Dean was almost disappointed with the thing he found in that room.

A woman in jogging clothes lay curled up and sobbing in the middle of the floor, bleeding from her side and a cut on her head. She had her eyes shut tight and her body shuddered in time with the music playing through an old, battered boombox propped up on an end table, the one piece of furniture in the room that hadn’t been smashed up or rearranged into the mess of cushions and sawdust in one corner.

Standing over the woman, with some surprise in his utterly normal-looking eyes, was the kid from the park. Lanky and complete with clothes that he might have outgrown a little. A familiar red ballcap rested on his head.

Dean held his gun to bear, but he squinted almost accusingly at the person standing there. “It was you? You just wandered into town in front of everyone?”

The Red Cap recovered from the apparent shock of Dean barging in on his teasing of the woman on the floor. He drew himself up, and smirked. “I like to window shop, what can I say,” he drawled. His voice, confident and mature, didn’t fit the form he’d decided to take.

“Yeah, well, store’s closed, buddy,” Dean quipped back. “Let her go.”

If the thing in front of him really had been just some hooligan, Dean’s glare and the no-nonsense tone in his voice would have sent him scrambling. Instead, the fairy grinned wide, wider than a human would be able to, and his eyes glinted. “I don’t wanna,” he said, and lifted a hand.

Dean tensed, ready to fire one of his iron bullets if he felt even an _itch_ of magic on him.

Nothing happened.

The Red Cap’s mouth switched from a grin to a snarl in an instant. His face took on an eerie countenance, that not-quite-human edge to his cheekbones and jawline. The pupils in his eyes became slits, like a lizard’s. Suddenly, he didn’t look like the average thug-wannabe teenager anymore.

“That _Goldenrod_ has been at work,” he remarked. “I suppose they found the toughest human they could and sent you after me cloaked in magical bravery, hmm?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Not the way I hear it,” he snarked. “Now, are you gonna let this woman go, or am I gonna have to fill you up with iron bullets?”

The fairy chuckled and nudged at the woman with one of his shoes. She whimpered, still curled up in an attempt to protect her injuries. Dean had no idea how hurt she really was.

“Human, I may not be from this realm but I know a hunter when I see one,” The Red Cap said. “I know you’re going to try to fill me up with iron bullets whether or not I let this pretty thing go.”

Dean cocked his head to the side in a quick acknowledgement, a smirk on his face. “Ya got me there, rock star,” he quipped. “You’ve _killed_ innocent -”

He didn’t get to finish his derisive comment before, in the blink of an eye, the Red Cap was standing in front of him, just past the range of his readied weapon. With speed and strength that didn’t fit that gangly teenage body, a hand slammed into Dean’s chest and he was launched back through the doorway to slam into the opposite wall. Drywall creaked behind him and his head throbbed from the hit.

The fairy sauntered into the hall after him. Dean was dazed and realized with a shock of cold dread that he’d dropped his colt. He hastily dove a hand into his jacket for his silver knife, but he wasn’t quick enough.

A harsh grip closed on his arm and forced it back, slamming it against the wall. Dean tried to squirrel his way out of the fairy’s grip, but the Red Cap was too quick. His other hand planted solidly and painfully against Dean’s chest. He was pinned.

By what _looked_ like a guy who ought to be in braces and studying for a friggin’ math exam.

“You think a little armor of glamour is enough to keep you safe, human?” The Red Cap hissed. “It’s the only thing pixies are good at. They can’t do a thing against the more sophisticated magic of _real_ fae.”

“Shaddup already, would you?” Dean groused, trying to pry the hand off his chest even as it slowly applied more pressure against his sternum. He glanced up and smirked. “You might have more tricks but you’ve got all the same weaknesses.”

Right on cue, a black, glittery dust dumped out of a vent in the ceiling. It landed on them both, dusting over Dean’s shoulders and coating the Red Cap’s arms.

The iron filings didn’t affect Dean much, but the reaction from the evil fairy creature was instant. He screamed, _loudly,_ as Oscar and Sam poured the iron filings out of their bags onto the combatants below.

Dean was glad he’d insisted on the backup plan.

As the fairy jerked backwards and tried to brush the iron filings away, still screaming and cussing in that strange language from before, he only managed to spread the burn over more of his reddening skin. It dug into his hands, his arms, his face, and he twisted and flailed backwards.

Dean drew his silver knife and held it at the ready. Goldenrod had given them plenty of information on fighting the high-ranked fae. The iron hurt him and he wouldn’t expect it, but it wouldn’t keep him back forever.

Mostly, it’d just _piss him right the hell off._ Dean had to hope that’d make the monster lose his composure.

He lunged forward with the silver knife, slashing it at one of the Red Cap’s hands. The skin hissed and burned, a sound that reminded Dean of throwing holy water on a demon, and the Red Cap flailed back even more. Then, those slitted yellow eyes opened, full of rage and fixed on Dean.

“I’m going to _vaporize_ you, human!”

“Just try it, Red,” Dean snapped back, a snarl on his own face. The iron that had landed on him was like an extra shield, the way he saw it. The big-shot fairy couldn’t risk touching him without burning his skin more on the pure metal.

With a smirk on his mouth, Dean went on the offensive.

~~~

Up in the vent, Oscar hastily put his bag back over his shoulder, now that it was empty of the metal filings Dean had insisted they carry. It was lucky they had them. The monster fought fiercely even with the dust all over him. Oscar couldn’t stop quaking as he heard the heavy footfalls of Dean and the fairy circling each other, lunging and dancing backwards out of reach.

“At least they’re in the hall away from that girl,” Sam muttered, also replacing his bag on his shoulder. “The less she’s jostled around, the better, if she’s bleeding that much.”

Oscar followed Sam through the ventilation shaft. Down below, Dean or the Red Cap slammed into one of the walls, shaking everything around them. There was a growl of effort from Dean and then something slammed into the wall on the opposite side of the hall. This time, the Red Cap hissed.

Oscar’s heart pounded. It seemed like it was all too recent that he’d run across a tile floor while Dean fought just as viciously against an enemy. He didn’t want to peek and see the violence below their running feet, but he worried about his friend.

Dean was tough, but even humans could get hurt. Oscar had to hope this wouldn’t be one of those times.

They rounded the bend and found the opening in the metal that Sam had spotted to get them in there in the first place. Sam ducked his head to dash out, and Oscar followed (noting distractedly that he _didn’t_ have to duck).

Goldenrod was waiting for them, their eyes wide in the dark. “Did you get rid of all your awful iron?” they asked.

Sam nodded, and Oscar patted his bag to show how empty it was now. It felt so _light._ Usually, that feeling made him nervous. It meant he hadn’t found enough food for the day. He quelled that feeling with the help of a startling swear from the combatants down below.

“Good,” Goldenrod huffed. They glanced around within the ceiling, dragonfly wings twitching. “Are you sure you don’t want me to fly you two out of here, now? You’ve done what you could.”

“I’m _not_ leaving my brother,” Sam said forcefully.

Oscar shook his head, though his voice came out as more of a squeak than Sam’s determined statement. “I-I don’t wanna leave Dean all alone, either,” he said.

As he expected, Goldenrod fidgeted and made a show of pouting. Despite wanting to flit away to safety, they had kept close to Oscar so far. They meant it when they said they wanted to keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn’t getting into trouble.

Oscar was glad. The pixie was fussy and exuberant, but they’d really grown on him. Oscar didn’t want to have to worry about them flying into trouble if they decided to flee.

“We should find a place to keep an eye on them,” Sam determined. His silver knife was in his hand, as if he was ready to dive into the fight himself. For all Oscar knew, he _was._ He and Sam might be small, but that had never seemed to stop the younger Winchester. In many ways, Oscar admired that bravery.

As much as it scared him to follow Sam’s jog through the bowels of the old house to find an opening.

Goldenrod strode behind, though they didn’t have to run as quickly to keep up with Sam and Oscar. Oscar heard their muttering behind him, but paid little mind. Below, the Red Cap started to laugh, only for it to cut off in an angry hiss.

From the sound of things, Dean was driving it towards the open doorway at the front of the house. Away from the victim, and away from the close quarters that could get him cornered if he wasn’t careful. The Red Cap would have a lot of energy, and would take any chance it could to fling magic at Dean.

They found a spot where the ceiling sagged down, a large chunk of it long since missing. Oscar grabbed Sam’s arm before he could run over another dangerously-loose piece of plaster, and the pair sidled more carefully around to a safer ledge. Dean and the Red Cap were circling each other in the foyer below.

Dean had a cut over one eye, and a line of scarlet running down his face from it. There were bruises on his jaw and his jacket was rumpled. Still, with his knife in hand and a focused look on his face, he was ready for more.

The Red Cap looked very different from the original teenager guise. Red gashes, all less than an inch long, covered its face and hands, and cuts on its arms and chest were festering with almost blackened edges. The iron and the silver, bane to fairies like the Red Cap and Goldenrod, were doing their work. Those slitted yellow eyes were fixed on Dean, and Oscar could swear he saw a forked tongue flitting into view for only a moment.

“He’s still so strong,” Goldenrod muttered. “So much magic in those high court fae, he’s just gonna wait ‘til Dean gets tired…”

Oscar glanced over to the pixie. “N-no,” he insisted. “Dean’s gonna keep fighting.”

“What can we _do,_ little friend,” the pixie lamented, lost in their disparaging thoughts. “He will find us up here and ohhh, he will eat me for sure. I can only hope he’ll find you two amusing enough and keep you instead of killing you …”

“Stop it,” Sam hissed. “It’s _not_ going to go that way.”

Oscar didn’t like the way Goldenrod was talking, either, but he understood it. Below, Dean lashed out at the Red Cap with his knife, grazing its belly. It shrieked and Oscar nearly curled up in a ball of fear right then and there.

Instead, he surprised himself by pointing forcefully but shakily at Goldenrod. “Y-you asked me for my help an’ what’d I say, I said my friends would know what to do,” he said. “You think I woulda called Sam and Dean here if I thought this thing could win? Th-that’s not how it’s gonna happen!”

Goldenrod raised their eyebrows and put a hand on one cheek as if Oscar had slapped it. Their dragonfly wings buzzed, and their feet shifted, before they couldn’t meet Oscar’s eyes anymore. They squatted down to watch the fight.

The three in the ceiling had a good view of the progress of the fight. Dean gave it his all, keeping his grasp on his knife no matter how many times the Red Cap tried to flank him and rush him. Sometimes, he barely dove out of the way in time. Others, he maneuvered the knife quickly enough to draw a hiss of pain from the attacking fairy.

Oscar and Sam didn’t want to believe it, but something Goldenrod had said was right. Dean was only human and could tire out eventually. The Red Cap, for all his hissing and the burns on his skin, wasn’t even breathing heavily. Oscar shifted from foot to foot while Sam gripped the edge of their opening. It was a close match.

Finally, Oscar looked to Goldenrod. “Can’t you do something? You have magic… can you use it to take his cap? It might weaken the monster!”

Goldenrod fidgeted. “My magic is all in the glamour, little friend,” they said weakly. “If I wanted to take that cap, I’d have to go and carry it myself.”

Oscar glanced down when he heard a grunt of pain from Dean. The Red Cap slammed him into the side of a door frame. The silver knife almost slipped from his hand, and Oscar’s heart fluttered.

“Th-then … won’t you try?” he asked, hardly believing the words. “If I could carry it, I would do it, but I _can’t,_ Sam an’ me are too _small._ ”

This time, Goldenrod’s reaction wasn’t practiced or poised, and there was nothing staged about it. They balked, eyes wide and shoulders tense. “But … Oscar,” they said, the name sounding unusual after using his nickname for so long. “It is dangerous …”

“Y-yeah,” Oscar said, looking away from the fairy again. He _agreed._ He related to that fear every day of his life. Oscar faced a deep-seated fear every single time he left his house: what if I don’t make it back this time?

It hadn’t stopped him before. “But … it might work.”

There was a pause in which the only sound came from below. The Red Cap stomped heavily on the creaky wooden floors. Long claws raked against the wallpaper, gouging into the wood behind it. Dean held up his weapon, ready to defend.

Neither of them was ready for a glittery shape to dive out of the ceiling. The Red Cap didn’t even _see_ Goldenrod until they were right next to his head. By then, the sweeping claws were too late. The pixie, yelling something high-pitched and terrified, grasped the edge of the ball cap and tugged it upwards.

They used their momentum to hurtle right out the open door, tumbling in the air as the weight of the hat outdid them. Oscar and Sam leaned forward with bated breath as the Red Cap yelled in rage, whirling towards the open door.

A flash of silver. A sickening rasp of metal on bone.

Dean plunged the knife into the Red Cap’s heart as deep as it would go, and twisted it. His face, even seen from the safety up above, was as terrifying as it had ever been, covered in blood and fixed in a determined scowl.

The Red Cap’s hands shook and his head fell slack. Then, with a rush of air that smelled vaguely of swamp water and rotting leaves, his entire form fell away, melting down from Dean’s knife and onto the floor until a vague stain of something oily remained.

Dean had won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a fight! I don't write a lot of fight scenes by myself, but I really like how this one turned out. Things were pretty tense for Dean, for a minute. He's so lucky he's got a Sam and an Oz keeping an eye on him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the fight over, Sam and Dean have one more challenge for Oz.

Dean blinked, adrenaline still running rampant in his blood. With the monster suddenly gone, the energy had nowhere to go, and he stood frozen, panting from exhaustion. His muscles quivered all over his body as the victory sank in.

He’d done it. Another evil son of a bitch gone.

“Dean!” A tiny voice cried out from above. He looked up and blinked again, coming down to earth as the high of the fight wore off. Sam was waving from a hole in the ceiling. Wood and plaster sagged down, giving the two tiny guys up there a front row seat to the fight Dean had just finished.

“Sammy, Oz,” he said, shaking the blackish blood away from his knife. It wiped off on his jeans and he stowed the weapon; a long shower was _required_ after all that. “Good to see the backup plan worked. You guys were just in time.”

He stepped forward, his face angled upwards at them. They were above his level, but when he held his hand up as a platform, it was only four or five inches away from them. Already he spied that three-pronged hook in Sam’s hand as he prepared to hop down the short distance.

While Sam climbed down the short way, Dean caught a glimpse of Oscar shifting his feet before following. He probably hadn’t climbed down from the ceiling before in his life. Where Sam’s life since joining up with Dean had been filled with risks (some that even Dean raised his eyebrows at), Oscar had spent his life all in one place.

_Guess we’re a bad influence on the little guy,_ Dean mused as Oscar finally followed Sam down the sturdy fishing line. He couldn’t hold back a smirk.

Once they were safely on his hand and Sam had flicked down his climbing hook, Dean lowered them down, holding them in front of his chest while he turned to look for wherever Goldenrod had gotten to.

Out on the porch, resting in the last light of the afternoon, was a tattered old ballcap. The red had dried to a rusty, lifeless brown. Goldenrod was nowhere to be seen, but the reason became clear when that cap scooted along the worn ground an inch or two.

“Sparkles?” Dean called, casually sauntering over to the hat to kneel down next to it. “You okay in there?”

The edge of the hat shifted, and finally a pair of little hands appeared. With some effort, Goldenrod lifted the hat up over their head. Dean took pity on them and reached down with his free hand to move it the rest of the way, revealing a disgruntled but unharmed golden fairy. Their hair was as mussed as ever, and the first thing they did when freed from the hat was reach up to pat it down haughtily.

“Goldenrod, you’re okay!” Oscar chirped from his place on Dean’s hand. His own little hands leaned on Dean’s thumb like a railing. “You did it!”

“It was a good save,” Dean agreed. He lowered his hand to the floor for Sam and Oscar, and the latter immediately stepped down to scurry closer to the pixie. Oscar had his head tilted back to look up at them, so even Dean could see his relieved little smile.

Goldenrod paused in their fussing to appraise the others, glancing down at Oscar before looking up at Dean. Their wings buzzed faintly, and then they let a bemused smile onto their face. “I guess I did help quite a bit, didn’t I?”

Sam snickered. “And you were the one saying you’re too cowardly to do it.”

Goldenrod rolled their eyes. “Well, yes, we all say things in the heat of the moment, don’t we?” they huffed.

“I didn’t know if you were gonna do it,” Oscar admitted. “I know it was scary and … I’m really glad you helped.”

Goldenrod smiled again, this time more genuine. Dean could swear they even glittered more than they should with what light shone on them. “Thank you, little friend. I _did_ owe you a favor, you know. I don’t know _how_ you became friends with such odd humans, but after you helped me … well. I’m just glad Dean knew to follow up on my act of daring.”

Dean rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort, but Sam chimed in before he could. “So … the Red Cap really is gone?”

Goldenrod nodded and opted to squat down so they were closer to Sam and Oscar’s level. Suddenly Dean was the odd one out again. “He is gone, yes,” they said. “As much as a fairy like him can be. If he ever reappears, it will be back home, and you can be certain I will make sure they know to watch him more closely so no more dreadfulness happens. He makes us fairies look bad, you know, and the Unseelie have enough trouble with that already.”

The information went over Dean’s head, and he imagined Oscar didn’t fare much better with it either. The little guy didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he heaved a tiny, relieved sigh. “I’m glad that’s figured out,” he said. “Are you … you have to go home now, don’t you?”

Goldenrod _tutted._ “Yes, little friend. Now that it’s safe for me, I’m going to try. I’ll surely miss you, though.” They leaned down to hug Oscar again, absolutely dwarfing the much smaller person, but Oscar didn’t squirm out of it this time.

Once the embrace was finished, Goldenrod stood up straight to eye Dean. “You take care of my little friend, alright, hunter?”

Dean smirked. “You got it, Sparkles.”

~~~

Oscar was exhausted. Once Goldenrod flitted off in a dazzling burst of golden light, Dean had let Sam and Oscar back onto his hand. They needed to hide out in his pocket while he helped the injured woman take care of her wounds enough to last until an ambulance could make it out to them.

That’s what they said, anyway. Oscar had dropped off to sleep almost as soon as he slumped into the pocket and only woke up when Dean finally returned to the _Knight’s Inn._ Home sweet home, as the humans liked to say.

He would have gone straight to his house in the walls, but Dean heated up some leftover fries. Oscar and Sam had something to eat while they waited for the huge human to emerge from cleaning off all the blood in the bathroom.

When Dean finally returned to the table, a proud grin on his face as he brushed his hand through his wet hair, he had a bandage over the cut on his forehead. There were bruises visible on his face and arms, still uncovered as Dean only had a t-shirt on. His jacket would need a thorough cleaning before he could wear it again. The pains of the fight didn’t seem to bother Dean at all.

“I think I oughta go grab a six pack to celebrate,” he commented, sitting heavily in the chair. It rumbled the table beneath Sam and Oscar. Sam sent him a bitchface and Oscar clutched his portion of french fry to avoid dropping it.

“Six pack? That means beer, right?” Oscar asked. Immediately after the words left his mouth, his cheeks warmed up. He felt naive asking something like that. “M-maybe I shouldn’t. I never had it before. I just have a little bit back home just in case I get hurt and havta clean it.”

“ _That_ reminds me,” Sam suddenly blurted, sitting up straight. Oscar flinched, startled, and met Sam’s stern gaze with surprise. He almost shrank back from him.

“What?” Oscar squeaked out.

Sam turned to look up at Dean. “Oscar’s living all on his own here,” he said. “When I was there, there definitely wasn’t any sign of someone else living in his house.”

Oscar’s mouth clamped shut and his cheeks erupted in flames this time. He found himself the subject of both Winchesters’ gazes. Dean’s brow pinched subtly, and his eyes were thoughtful. Sam watched him closely for his reaction, and for a silent second, Oscar was frozen.

Eventually, he fidgeted with the strap of his bag. “S-so? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Oz,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. “How long have you been on your own?”

“Believe me, I know it’s not easy getting by like this sometimes,” Sam added. “How … were you doing okay before we started leaving food around for you?”

Oscar recalled the first gift of food from them. The flavor of pizza was ingrained in his memory as the first warm food he ever tasted. Oscar bit his lip, knowing he had never eaten so well in his life until they’d given it to him. He huffed in embarrassment.

“W-well, it’s hard, but I usually make it just fine,” he hedged. “I’ve been … I had to learn real fast, because I, um…”

His eyes suddenly stung and Oscar scrubbed at them frustratedly. He didn’t want to talk about how his life had been before he first made friends with them. Those chapters of his life were long and dull, punctuated with hungry nights and lonely days. He’d never expected anyone to _ask._

“A long time,” he finally admitted, staring at his cloth-wrapped feet. “I was a kid, and I didn’t know what else to do but keep trying, so … that’s what I did. I kept trying.”

The silence that followed closed in. Oscar didn’t look up, but something in him doubted that they were expecting an answer like that. If his cheeks could get any hotter, they would.

“Oz, why didn’t you tell us you were by yourself?” Dean asked. His voice was softer than Oscar was used to. The familiar gruff cadence was so quiet it almost didn’t rumble at all. Oscar glanced up sheepishly and found Dean watching him with concern.

He shrugged helplessly. “I dunno,” he said. “It didn’t seem important, I guess…”

“You shouldn’t have to be _alone,_ ” Sam said, his own expression full of concern. Their solemn looks flustered Oscar more and more by the second.

“B-but I do,” he said, shrugging again. “What else am I s’posed to do?”

Sam and Dean shared a long look and Oscar wrung his hands. He never had picked up the knack for reading either of them. They were enigmatic, no matter how much trust he’d placed in them, and when they wanted to hide what they were thinking, they could.

“If you want,” Sam began, turning back to Oscar with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, “we could get you to a place where you don’t have to be by yourself. Somewhere we could visit you more often and everything, and you’d even have more access to food.”

“Someplace _safe,_ Oz. You deserve it after all that time,” Dean added. One hand approached and nudged gently at his shoulder. Just a gentle touch, and the hand retreated.

Oscar glanced around, wondering if they were playing a joke of some kind. _Leaving_ the only place he’d ever known to live somewhere else? He’d never had a thought like that. It had never been a _possibility_ before. “Um. Where is it? Is it far?”

“It’s a few states away,” Sam explained, but he didn’t let Oscar’s alarmed look stop him. “It’s with our friend Bobby. He’s another human who knows about me, who knows about other people like us, and he’s friendly.”

Oscar shook his head, an immediate, startled reaction. “Another human? But … I don’t think I can …”

Sam sighed and put his own hand on Oscar’s frail shoulder. “You’ve done a lot for us. We just want you to be somewhere that you don’t have to struggle, Oscar,” he said. “If you were struggling before, you never have to again. And we promise you’ll be safe from other humans. Bobby will know, but he won’t let anything happen to you. He even made me my own room on a shelf, all my own. He could do the same for you, all we’d have to do is ask.”

Oscar was silent as he thought about it. He saw only sincerity in Sam’s eyes, and in Dean’s up above. They wanted to help him. He’d helped them a few times, and they wanted to return the favor.

He thought of his mom, going out for food one night and never coming back. How many nights had he gone to bed hungry after that? Too many to count. The offer of an _end_ to that struggle was enticing.

He was still afraid.

“Um. Maybe …”

Dean waved a hand. “Tell you what, Oz,” he began, a hopeful grin on his face. “Why don’t I go get those beers so we can celebrate a successful hunt. You don’t have to decide right now. Deal?”

Oscar sighed, pressure lifted from his shoulders. He nodded emphatically, despite his hesitance towards the beer earlier. “Okay. Okay, that sounds good.”

He fell silent, pondering the question, while Sam and Dean struck up a conversation about what kind of beer Dean should get. Their bickering faded into the background while their offer buzzed around his head.

As Dean finally stood, caving in to Sam’s side of the argument, Oscar smiled shyly.

He thought he knew what he’d decide, when the night was finally over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep! What a conclusion! :happybounce: Those Winchester brothers can't help but want to take care of their Oscar, regardless of what the pixie told them to do. He's their buddy and they wanna make sure he's safe.
> 
> Sam's such a tattletale.
> 
>  
> 
> This concludes the story, and I really hope y'all enjoyed it!


	10. Epilogue: "The Real Adventure Begins"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar decides what he wants to bring with him when he moves out of his little house in the walls of the motel.

“Oscar, you’ve seen Dean’s pockets, right?” Sam chided. Oscar didn’t turn to look at him, but he could hear the smirk in his voice. “He can carry as much as you want to bring, I guarantee it. He won’t even notice the weight.”

Oscar huffed and shook his head as if shooing a gnat away. Sitting on his knees at the edge of his blanket nest, he tried to focus on the task at hand. He had a number of cloth scraps and rags stacked atop each other, a warm haven to burrow into on the colder nights in the motel. One hand pinched a worn blue scrap, running the thumb over the soft fibers. The other brushed over the rest of the blankets thoughtfully.

Choosing which blankets to take was turning out to be a tougher decision than actually deciding to leave the motel.

“I can … I can get more later,” he mumbled to himself. His cheeks were warm. He didn’t want to come back out of the vent overburdened with just _blankets._

And yet, as he brushed his hands over each scrap, he conjured up the memories of where it came from. This one from a disorganized lady’s sewing kit. That one abandoned after a failed craft. Others …

Others that had always been there. A part of his home. These were the ones his mother must have gathered over the years. It used to be _her_ bed. Years ago, before she disappeared and Oscar claimed it for himself to fall asleep in her scent at night.

Those memories were rough around the edges. Day in and day out had been the same struggle for a long time, until the Winchesters showed up. Now, with their help, a long and arduous chapter of his life was coming to a close.

“Hey,” Sam said, softer this time. He squatted next to Oscar and tried to catch his eye. Oscar realized that his eyes had welled up, and he hastily scrubbed at them while Sam went on. “It really is okay. I’ll help you carry as much as you want to bring.”

Oscar sighed and turned his attention back to the pile of blankets, his cheeks burning pink now. “I can pick some,” he insisted. “It … it really will be better to find some new ones. Once I’m there. It’ll help ... um, it’ll help me.” Sam nodded respectfully and stood to leave the side room and let Oscar decide on his own.

In the end, he picked four blankets. Once they were tugged free of the pile (along with the extra clothes Oscar stashed in there), Sam wouldn’t let him put any back. In fact, while Oscar worked to bundle the cloth into a more manageable pile, Sam tossed one more scrap of cloth onto it, one that Oscar had pointed out as especially warm.

“Sam!” Oscar complained, trying his best to glare up at his much taller friend. Sam just smirked at him.

Oscar huffed and resumed tucking the blankets together, rolling them up on the floor of the small main room of his home. The table, made of pill bottles and a tupperware lid, was still toppled and the rest of his furniture out of order, thanks to the too-tall pixie that had stayed in his home for a couple days.

A home that, soon, wouldn’t be his anymore. Oscar shuddered at the thought.

 _I can do it,_ he told himself, _Sam and Dean will help._

He glanced over to his pantry, well-stocked with food for once in his life. It grated against everything he knew, but he didn’t need to bring any of that, either. Part of the reason he was leaving was the enticing promise of easier access to food. He didn’t need to desperately hoard it as much.

Still, he couldn’t let it go to waste. “Maybe I should leave the door open, so the mice can get to that,” he suggested.

Sam nodded and smiled. Already, he crossed to Oscar’s door. “Sounds like a good plan. They might come looking for you after a while, at least they can get something to eat.”

Oscar nodded absently, and his heart fell for a brief moment. He thought about the mice, generations of them, that he’d lived with in the motel. Meeting them when they were born and letting them learn his scent, raising them. He would miss them, and they would probably miss him, too.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around the bundle of blankets, getting to his feet. He needed to get moving before he had more doubts.

Dean’s advice to Sam rumbled in his memory. _If he starts to have second thoughts, just bring him back out here, Sammy. We can both convince him, somehow._ A giant fingertip had ruffled over the top of his head. Oscar hadn’t even bothered to fix his hair since then, and it was still a mess.

Sam pushed the door open, and then wandered back to where Oscar stood, laden with his blankets. “Want any help with those?” he offered.

Oscar shook his head. “I got ‘em.”

Sam smirked. “Alright. You sure you don’t want to bring your chair? I can carry it for you.”

Oscar let his gaze slide to the blue velvety ring box, with fake satin lining and a foam base. He’d already retrieved his extra sewing needles from the foam, and they were stowed away in his overflowing cloth bag. He’d done his daily chores on that ring box for years, now.

“Um …”

Before he could murmur out a weak “no,” Sam stepped over to the thing. With a quiet grunt of effort, he pushed the lid closed over the box with a snap that sent a startled jolt through them both. “I’ll carry it,” Sam announced. Oscar’s jaw dropped and he almost protested, but he couldn’t.

It was part of his home. And something like _that_ wouldn’t be so easy to find again.

“Fine,” he huffed, trying to roll his eyes at Sam. Instead, he gave him more of a sheepish smile. “Showoff.”

Laden with their cumbersome burdens, they finally took their leave of the small home. Oscar, for the last time ever, crossed his threshold. He took a shaky breath once they were in the dark.

The one place he could always go when he was lonely or scared or cold, and he was leaving it behind. Riding on a promise of better safety somewhere else, he put one foot in front of the other in a slow, painstaking effort. Finding someplace better should be easy, but leaving the place he knew was _hard._

“It’s okay, Oscar,” Sam encouraged him gently. His gait was slower than it normally would be, balancing the ring box in his arms.

“I got it,” Oscar muttered back. Determination and nerves clashed in his voice, but still they continued onward.

Thanks to the ring box, they couldn’t use the vent entrance. Oscar led Sam along to the torn wallpaper entrance that they’d used when walking with Goldenrod the pixie. At eight inches tall, the fussy fairy couldn’t fit through Oscar’s entrance to the air shafts.

Actually pushing the entrance open while both of them had their arms full was a trick. Sam ended up shoving the ring box at the opening, forcing it through to free his arms. Then, he hopped out into the motel room after a cursory glance into the light, holding the wallpaper back for Oscar.

Oscar paused, letting the opening frame indecision. One more step on the journey he’d let them convince him to take.

“I-I can do this,” he told himself, before clumsily exiting the walls.

Dean, seated on the bed to wait for them, had his eyes on a different section of the wall. He wouldn’t find them at the vent, so Sam waved his hand. “Dean!”

The human, over six feet tall and bearing an intimidating expression even when neutral-faced, turned his green eyes to the source of the call. He spotted them quickly, something that still always startled Oscar. Most humans wouldn’t know what to look for, and their gazes would skate right past his drab-colored clothes. Sometimes, he _relied_ on that notion.

At least with this human, Oscar didn’t need to worry about being spotted. He shuffled his feet on the worn carpet fibers as Dean grinned and stood, carrying what to Sam and Oscar was an immense weight over to where they waited. When he knelt, the ground shook and air pushed past them.

Neither of them really minded that his shadow engulfed them. Dean had their trust, and they both knew he’d never want to betray it.

“So, whatcha got?” Dean asked curiously, nudging at the blankets in Oscar’s arms. His gaze flickered to Sam as he hoisted up the ring box once more. “A ring? Oz, I didn’t take you for the jewelry type.”

Oscar blushed fire while Dean lowered a hand for Sam to set the box down. “I-I’m not! That’s not what it’s for, I never even saw the ring!” he protested. “I use that box as a _chair,_ it’s usually open!”

Dean’s teasing grin gave way to intrigue and he lifted the box high in the air in front of his face. Oscar watched with wide eyes as a fixture of his home opened easily in the human’s grasp, and Dean brushed a fingertip over the foam base. “Huh,” Dean began, snapping the box closed once more. “That’s a good idea. I’ll make sure it gets there all in one piece.” He winked, and the box disappeared into a jacket pocket.

“The rest is just, um. Just a few blankets,” Oscar said, lifting the bundle for emphasis.

Sam snickered and chimed in. “I think he was worried about making you carry more.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up. “That so?”

Oscar didn’t get to stammer out a reply before a huge hand, bigger than his pile of blankets before he’d picked it apart, swept towards him. Dean was careful but swift as he scooped the whole lot off the ground, with _Oscar_ along for the ride. Oscar ended up landing on his chosen blankets on Dean’s palm, all in one pile.

“Dean!” Oscar complained, his voice squeaking with indignation. Vertigo swirled around him as he rose into the air.

That familiar, smug grin was in place when the hand stopped moving. “I think I got it, Oz. No need to worry about little old me.”

“I wasn’t _worried,_ ” Oscar insisted, huffing as he sat up on the pile of blankets. “I just thought … I didn’t wanna bring more than I _needed._ ”

Dean’s grin softened and he nodded. “Fair enough, Oz. This everything?”

Oscar nodded, and scooted himself off the pile of blankets just in time for Dean’s other hand to pluck up the lot. If he hadn’t moved, he had a feeling Dean might have swept him up along with the blankets, just to tease. Luckily, Oscar’s ‘bed’ disappeared into a pocket without him in it.

Oscar sucked in a gasp as the hand lowered again, this time to admit Sam onto the palm as well. Oscar shifted aside to make room as Sam hopped on, and then flinched when the smaller Winchester winked at him. “Race ya!”

Sam stepped over the edge of Dean’s sleeve and started a swift climb up Dean’s arm, gripping the folds in his jacket with practiced ease. Oscar’s eyes widened and he scrambled after him before even realizing what he was doing.

Racing up the arm of a human.

Sam was already up on Dean’s shoulder by the time Oscar was making a vertical climb, thanks to the stolen head start. Oscar frowned up at him as he followed, amazed that Dean could sit so still. The human had his face angled to watch them the best he could, but he didn’t otherwise move, letting Oscar finish the race on his own.

“That’s cheating, isn’t it?” Oscar mumbled as he dragged himself up onto Dean’s shoulder. “I wasn’t ready!”

Sam laughed gamely. “We’ll call it a tie this time, but next time you better be ready!” He helped Oscar inch closer to the collar of Dean’s jacket, and Oscar gratefully clung to the larger fold of fabric. It only just began to sink in that he was up on Dean’s shoulder for the first time in his memory.

No safe pockets to curl up in and snooze. This time, Oscar would be traveling up high, watching every step Dean took. He would be able to pretend he was the one walking along at such a height.

He gulped. “M-maybe,” he said. “I don’t race a lot, it isn’t … I just like to be quick enough to get in and out of a room as fast as I can.”

“Well, for now, you just relax, Oz. We’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us anyway, and I don’t think you guys wanna run around in the car,” Dean rumbled out. Oscar clung tighter to his collar as the human shifted, and then both he and Sam braced themselves as Dean stood. Air rushed past them, ruffling their bangs.

Oscar’s head swiveled this way and that once Dean was at his full height. He had seen the motel room from a vantage point in Dean’s pocket before. In the front pocket of the flannel shirt, Oscar would have a wall of a chest behind him. Now, he could look behind Dean as the human turned.

He could see all around. Despite the shaky perch, he could see the appeal.

Dean retrieved his own bag in a smooth motion. Oscar kept an eye on Sam, who leaned with the motion like it was the most normal sensation in the world. He didn’t have to cling to the fabric of the jacket like Oscar did in order to feel secure.

Oscar sighed. He might end up just as accustomed to this someday, too. Sam and Dean had both insisted they’d be able to visit him more, after he made this move.

Probably meant Dean would keep scooping him up off the floor as a greeting, too.

Oscar faced the door when Dean took one long stride towards it, jarred out of his thoughts. The motel room was behind him. A world of familiar shadows and corners, of countless nights wishing he’d found more food and endless days waiting for someone to check out so he could go out. He was leaving it all behind. What little good could never erase the hardships of getting by on his own.

A large hand left the human’s side down below, closing firmly around the worn metal doorknob. Oscar held his breath. He’d been outside before, but this … this was the last time he’d travel out that door.

He squinted in the sunlight as the door opened. Yet another adventure with the Winchesters was underway.

Oscar let his breath out and allowed himself to smile, just at the corners of his mouth. He’d had a few adventures already. What was one more?

**Author's Note:**

> I think Oscar's under the impression that if he sees enough weird, he'll get used to it. The Winchesters could tell him otherwise. He's starting off with an extra helping of confusion for this one, so let's hope he still knows Dean's phone number.


End file.
